The Kasnian Gambit
by The Cleric
Summary: Seeking distance after her breakup with Green Lantern, Vixen takes Vigilante and the Flash with her on a routine mission to the war-torn country of Kasnia. Political intrigue and a deepening attraction to a certain gun-toting teammate prove to be the least of her problems as foes new and old conspire against the struggling Queen Audrey and her JL allies. Vixen/Vigilante, GL/HG
1. Chapter 1

_"Great spirits have always found violent opposition from mediocrities. The latter cannot understand it when [one] does not thoughtlessly submit to hereditary prejudices but honestly and courageously uses [their] intelligence."_

-Albert Einstein

"_If someone you love hurts you cry a river, build a bridge, and get over it."_

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_Democratic Republic of Kasnia_

_Illyentov (Capital)_

_Royal Palace_

Kasnia's royal palace hadn't seen this much destruction in two hundred years. The building which had stood for centuries as a symbol of the royal family, was on the brink of collapse. With hundreds of people trapped inside.

Wally West was moving so fast that the wind shear alone was tearing his tuxedo to shreds. No costume, unfortunately, since even the fastest man alive didn't have time to retreat to his quarters and don it.

Slowing down just enough so that he wouldn't crush them on impact, Wally scooped up an elderly couple milliseconds before a falling rafter crashed to the ground where they had once stood. He skidded to a halt outside of the palace, setting them down and zooming away before the sound waves of their breathless 'thank you's even reached his ears. He was looking for someone. . .

"Wally!" came the shout from behind. He looked up to see Queen Audrey dextrously scaling a banner that was unfurled over the edge of the balcony. She'd scavenged an assault rifle, which swung wildly from its shoulder strap as she made her way up the banner and toward the upper level. Noticing the speedster below, she stopped her ascent ascent just long enough to yell, "You have to free the other hostages!"

"I already have," he shouted in response. One of the guerrillas chose that moment to fire at him, the launch tube attached to the bottom of his rifle belching out a grenade trailed by acrid smoke. Dodging the projectile was child's play, but it kept going until it impacted with the upper balcony. The explosion was instantaneous and brilliant, sending yet another concussive boom across the court. Audrey was hurled away from her perch and down a hundred feet toward the hard, unforgiving ground.

Wally raced in tight circle, creating an updraft of wind to cushion her fall. Audrey was buoyed, as if by some invisible life raft, before dropping unceremoniously into his arms. Without skipping a beat, he used his free hand to pick up a chunk of brick from one of the shattered walls and hurl it at the guerilla with pinpoint accuracy. It ricocheted off his skull, and the man dropped like a rock, instantly unconscious.

Wally cracked a smile. "Your highness, this is hardly the time to be rock clim-"

She cut off him with an impulsive kiss, and for perhaps the first time since infancy, Wally West was left speechless.

"Oh, relax," said Audrey nonchalantly when he set her back down. Still, she raised a slightly embarassed hand to the back of her neck. "Anything to get you to stop talking, right? Now come on, we have a palace to secure."

* * *

Above them Vixen and Vigilante were dispatching what they thought were the last of the terrorists. Vixen had imprinted a rhinoceros and was charging at the remaining fighters, their bullets bouncing off of her improvised hide while the impact of her assault was enough to send them flying. One who tried to get up after that walloping found himself on the receiving end of one of Vigilante's stun rounds. The kinetic forced knocked him clean off of the balcony.

Vixen smirked. "Nice one Greg. I think-" Her breath suddenly whooshed out of her as a pair of powerful arms encircled her from behind. She'd discarded the rhino imprint, and it didn't take her long to realize there was no way her hands were getting up to touch the totem again. With a gasp of pain, she felt a rib give way even as the realization of who she was dealing with dawned on her.

The attacker gave a menacing chuckle from behind her. "Oh come now, pathetic little Vixen. You didn't think it would be that _easy_, did you?" He flung her at Vigilante with such strength that the gunfighter had no time to dodge. The duo went crashing against a section of railing, which fell down partway from the impact. Vixen's eyes fluttered open to see that they were literally inches away from tumbling off and onto the ground below.

He didn't give her a chance to do anything about it. With a kick he obliterated the rest of the railing's supports, sending it, Vixen, and Vigilante sailing over the edge.

* * *

_Two Weeks Earlier. . ._

_Democratic Republic of Kasnia_

Queen Audrey never would have thought the long hours studying combat under the careful eye of her chief security advisor would save her life. It was a training regimen that had been initiated not long after the Vandal Savage debacle. That had been a victory for the Kasnian royal house, albeit at a very heavy cost. With the death of Kasnia's regent, Audrey was forced to assume the throne long before she'd been prepared to. Of course, she'd known that the marriage would put a stop to her celebrity behavior. Just not that it would be in such a dramatic fashion. In the end, the was left with even more responsibility and no husband to share it with.

The perceived weakening of the royal house had resulted in the resurgence of several militant separatist groups. They considered themselves freedom fighters in the struggle to gain 'independence' for their respective ethnic or religious affiliations. But they represented only a small portion of those groups, and their violent methods betrayed their true nature. Terrorists, hoping to capitalize on Audrey's inexperience to create more chaos for the government. And Audrey, for her part, was largely clueless about the strife existing within her own country. It was something that her father had always seemed to manage. . .

Her rude awakening was not long in coming. The first assassination attempt came from a young girl of fourteen who had gotten herself hired on the palace's cooking staff. One night, during an innocent trip to the kitchen, Audrey opened the door to find the girl wielding two butcher knives with a wild look in her eyes. The first came whistling toward her through the air, narrowly missing her head. The next thing she knew, the girl was _flying_ at her with the remaining knife poised for the kill.

Then, one single gunshot. Audrey had opened her eyes, peeking between the fingers clutched over her face to find her chief of security standing over the now-deceased girl, his sidearm drawn and still smoking. Were it not for him, Kasnia's new queen would have had the shortest reign in history.

She soon found out that his name was Diric Chenkev, and that he was one of the most capable military men that Kasnia could call its own. He'd declined any monetary reward for saving the Queen's life, but had instead taken it upon himself to teach her the basics of self-defense. Guns went from ugly noisemakers to lethal machines that she had to be able to assemble, load, and us with unerring accuracy. Swords, no longer decorations, became very real instruments of combat that she had to learn to wield. He showed her techniques from every continent in the handling of knives, batons, and virtually every handheld weapon known to man.

And of course, unarmed combat. Diric's specialty. He had trained in disciplines from all over the world. Muay Thai, jiu jitsu, savate, and of course the specialized commando techniques used by infamous SpecOps organizations like the Israeli Mossad or his native Russia's feared_ Spetsnaz_. It hadn't even been a whole year since the informal regimen had begun, but already Audrey could see the sharp contrast between her former naivete and her present competency. Perhaps the only thing in her past life she'd had to sacrifice was. . ._fun._

* * *

_Democratic Republic of Kasnia_

_Gardenia Research Facility_

Now, for instance, she was bored out of her skull. Visiting the Gardenia was certainly important for symbolic reasons, if anything. But it was mind-numbingly dull, on the kind of night that had once been perfect for hitting the local discoteques and bars. Music, lights, dancing. . .here the only sound was the nasally voice of the scientist who was leading her on this tour. And the steady breathing of her two-man guard contingent, never more than a step behind. Their presence should have been reassuring but instead Audrey found it only increased her desire to do the tour and be done with it.

Still, the Gardenia was an exciting project for a number of different reasons, as the lead scientist was explaining. He led her into one of the biosphere's greenhouses, where robotic trolleys delivered concentrated nutrients to the rare plant life being grown. The massive structure was the biggest of its kind in the world, an artificial ecosystem enclosed in a fiberglass and solid-light casing. It had an internal landmass of five acres, the largest manmade structure in the world. And the mainframe, the quantum supercomputer that aligned all of the millions of natural and biological variables to peak conditions. . . was a revolution in its own right.

Audrey processed all of this information as if she understood half of what the scientist was talking about. Truth be told, she didn't care all that much about the Gardenia's inner workings or the advanced physics theorems and ecological controls that made such a feat possible. What she _did_ care about was that it worked, and as such put Kasnia's scientific achievements in the global spotlight (for good reasons, this time). Hopefully, when theGardenia was unveiled it would help cleanse Kasnia of the stigma surrounding their deadly rail gun.

The scientist had just begun explaining the viable applications when he died. Audrey heard a small _pfft_ from behind her, like the sound of a concealed cough. And then suddenly there was a neat hole in the center of the scientist's forehead, a reddish mist erupting from the back. Like a marionette with its strings cut, the man just fell. Dead, before he even hit the ground.

Audrey knew _exactly_ what that sound was- she'd heard it countless times at the gun range with Diric. It was the sound emitted by a silenced semiautomatic pistol. Inaudible usually, but then she'd been standing right next to the shooter. She whirled around to find one of her security guards wielding a handgun. Pointed at her.

_A traitor in the ranks_, she thought before she died. _Clever._

Except she _didn't_ die. Instead, the other guard kicked his traitorous companion's hand right before the fatal shot. She felt the displaced air on her cheek as a second round whizzed past her right eye, zooming off into the night. The loyal guard, wasting no time, screaming "Run, my queen!" as he launched another kick at the traitor. No sooner had he said it than the first guard dodged to the side, steadyied his weapon, and coldly executed the second with four rapid shots. The loyal guard's body spasmed from the impact and then he fell over, as dead as the scientist.

The traitor brought his gun back up to Audrey, who hadn't moved an inch. He gave a mirthless smile. "This is for the K'Naedi," he said in an even, measured tone. "Tonight, Kasnia is reborn."

Audrey stared at him, not giving him the satisfaction of wincing or shirking away from her death. "Coward," she said.

The mirthless smile widened. "Goodbye, my queen," he murmured and then pulled the trigger. Only to hear the hollow click of an empty chamber being struck.

The queen didn't waste time questioning this stroke of luck, mostly because she'd known it was going to happen. He'd wasted the last of his six-round magazine on the other bodyguard, creating an opening that she couldn't ignore. She sprung into action. Unarmed, though thanks to Diric's training she didn't _need_ to be. She shoved the gun aside and rammed a knifehand blow into the man's throat. He let out a strangled yelp and reached his hand into his jacket. Audrey gave him no time to withdraw whatever it was though, leaping into the air and delivering a savage headbutt to his, bone and cartilage giving way. He stumbled back even further, disoriented and reeling in pain. Audrey quickly grabbed the man's tie and ran behind him, tightening the knot on his already-damaged trachea. His eyes bulged out of their sockets and large hands flailed to get a grip on the petite woman. He was much stronger than she was, but she had leverage and a will of steel.

Desperately, he fell back, trying to crush her beneath his weight. If Audrey hadn't landed on the corpse of her other bodyguard, the tactic might have even worked. As it was, the wind was knocked out of her and stars danced in her vision. But she did not let go. With her one free arm and legs, she worked him into a basic jiu jitsu hold, trapping his limbs between hers or against the ground where they could do no damage. The flailing continued. He was fighting for his life, and he knew it. They both were. And even Audrey was beginning to lose consciousness. She could barely inhale, with the weight of this man on top of her, crushing the breath from her lungs. And the energy she was expending. . .

The stars were back dancing again, and this time they didn't subside. Audrey wondered who would die first, herself or the man on top of her. The adrenaline rush was beginning to subside, her muscles going leaden. Soon, even leverage wouldn't be enough and-

Suddenly the weight on her body was lifted. Her arms and legs flopped back down to the ground as the hold was disengaged. She took in a deep breath of air, and then she was being lifted herself into an upright, into a sitting position.

"My queen!" came Diric's urgent voice. "Are you hurt?"

Audrey blinked, and wordlessly shook her head. Around her she saw Diric, some of the lab technicians, and a dozen of the royal guard."Where did you all come from?"

"The body of one of the guards was found a few hours ago by a group of schoolchildren," Diric said. "His name was Rohn, and he was scheduled for your security detail tonight. There was strong evidence of foul play, but we did not make the connection until. . .well, until it was almost too late."

"What connection?" Audrey asked, the fogginess clearing away quickly.

He was murdered, so that the traitor in our ranks, the man who just tried to kill you, would be included on the security detail instead of Rohn. Shame we can't interrogate this _pavainikis_ about the particulars of this mission though."

Audrey suddenly looked down, where the traitor had been laid. His head was cocked at an unnatural angle, his eyes wide and sightless and his tongue lolling grotesquely out of his mouth. The man's neck was a mass of purplish bruised and raw skin, and there was a deep indentation at the front of his throat. He was dead as any corpse she'd seen.

She recognized her own handiwork as Diric laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. He let out a low whistle. "Well done, my queen. It would seem you've learned well-"

His congratulations were cut short as Audrey suddenly doubled over and vomited on the ground, shaking uncontrollably. It was the first time she'd ever killed anyone, in person. "Oh God. . ." she gasped trying to rise to her feet. Diric immediately stood to steady her, while the gathered security personnel shooed away the scientists. Two men lay dead, and the entire biosphere had become Kasnia's number one crime scene. The media frenzy alone would be spectacular. . .

Audrey looked around at the men. Her men, sworn to give their lives for her, if necessary, without a moment's hesitation. And indeed, one had.

But another had tried to kill her. _Would _have, had he not run out of bullets. Audrey realized that she would never be able to fully trust even her royal guard.

She turned to Diric. "How did this man infiltrate my royal guard?"

To his credit, he offered no excuses. "I do not know, my queen. The situation astounds me, as our selection process is among the most rigorous in the world. I promise that we will get to the bottom of this however."

"I want every member of the guard to undergo polygraph and truth serum tests. Including you. I'll bring in university researchers to conduct the tests at random intervals. Also, I want the master key for the Guards' barracks. I will be doing a personal inspection. There are what, 40 of you altogether? I want the digital contents of _every_ single laptop, cell phone or electronic device owned by each member of the guard. They will be pored over by independent analysts." Audrey realized she was talking too fast and so paused to take a breath.

Diric arched an eyebrow. "So you distrust me enough to require I take the polygraph, yet trust me enough to implement all of these other security measures?"

Audrey sighed, lowering her voice so that only he would be able to hear her. "At this point, I don't fully trust anyone. I trust you more than the others though, and I figure that if you are a traitor, I'm dead already. And if you're not, then you're the only one I can rely on to help weed out any others that have made it into our ranks."

Diric nodded. "I shall have to do my best to earn that modicum of trust," he said solemnly.

"Oh, and Diric. . "

"Yes?"

"This impostor, whoever he is. . .he claimed to be working on behalf of the K'Naedi. Look into this group, I'm not familiar with them and it appears I should be."

"The K'Naedi. . ." Diric mused. "I will do as you wish." With a bow, he turned and helped the other royal guard members secure the area.

Wearily Audrey sat down on a nearby bench. The 'nighttime' sky- she had to remind herself that in here it was completely artificial- was not the comfort it usually was. Sitting in what could easily be called the future of biological and ecological research, all she could think about was the strife that threatened to tear her country apart. Strife that her father had tried to squelch through oppression and that as a result was ten times more dangerous to her reign. Kasnia was capable of such great things, if only they could unite. . .

Diana's face briefly flashed in her mind, an unconscious longing for friendship and mutual trust. The thought refused to dissipate however and suddenly she found herself thinking of the Justice League. Noble, powerful, trustworthy. .

She hadn't spoken to them in a very long time, but they were well-regarded among the Kasnian populace. And deservedly so. Perhaps, she reasoned, they would be willing to assist her one more time. . .

* * *

_Watchtower Orbital Station_

_Cafeteria_

"You outta your mind," John Stewart said through a mouthful of mixed vegetables, punctuating each word with a jab of his fork. "Absolutely not."

Wally West, aka the Flash, gave an exasperated look around the cafeteria before finally honing back in on John. "Look, I'm not taking no for an answer on this man. You're gonna-"

"No."

"You-"

"No."

"Birthday Party! You. Tomorrow. In the Watchtower."

John took a gulp, his green eyes flashing. "I hate birthday parties."

"See, it's when you say things like that I think 'Man, does this guy need a birthday party'. Listen, I've made arrangements."

"Arra- you made _arrangements_?"

With a smirk, Wally ticked off his fingers. "J'onn signed off on it. The lounge is a perfect venue, and it's free. Canary and GA agreed to bartend. I'll DJ. It's perfect, we'll invite all the Leaguers who aren't on active roster or monitor duty."

John blinked, mostly at the fact that Flash was already bringing others into his little conspiracy. "You really planned this out huh?"

"Pretty much. It'll be fun, no supervillains or tsunamis or evil sorcerers. Just a night of dancing and drinking and relaxation. . ." He went for the gold. "Plus, you know Mari loves that kind of thing."

John pursed his lips. "Yeah, she does."

"So it's settled then. I'll see you in the lounge, which believe me will be _completely_ unrecognizable, at say. . .8 tomorrow night."

"I'll come by," John said tentatively. "But that doesn't mean I'll stay. Honestly I'm not even sure I'd want to party with a bunch of other superheroes anyway."

"C'mon man, ain't no party like a Justice League party. This is gonna be great man, you won't regret it."

"Uh huh," said John, thinking, _Famous last words. . ._

"Perfect," said Wally, thinking, _This'll be one for the history books. . ._

* * *

The night of John Stewart's birthday found his girlfriend, Mari, alone in her quarters preparing for the big celebration. John seemed to be the only one on the Watchtower who didn't know that Wally was using his birthday as an excuse to throw a massive party in the League Headquarters. She hadn't yet seen the speedster's redesigns to the main lounge, but knowing him it would look like a goddamn disco by now.

For the occasion, she'd chosen a purple backless dress that swept up in the front, cinched around her neck by a brilliant diamond collar. A famous Italian designer had gifted the ten-thousand dollar dress to her, his way of saying thanks for the flurry of sales he'd received after she modeled another of his creations. More importantly, it was one of John's favorites. His genuine smiles were rare enough these days. . .maybe she'd at least be able to coax a small compliment out of him tonight.

Her earrings were a breeze to affix, and then she was ready. The woman who looked back at her in the mirror was gorgeous. Even more stunning than usual. She knew, and not from conceit but rather experience, that every male eye in the room would be glued to her that night.

Well, almost every male eye. Johns' seemed to have drifted elsewhere as of recently. Ever since the whole Shadow King debacle, he'd been distant. And she would catch him giving Shayera the _weirdest_ looks, like there was some sort of secret privy to just the two of them.

Thinking of the Thanagarian suddenly sent a cold wave of jealousy through her. Mari knew she was beautiful- it was how she made her very lucrative livelihood. But Shayera's appeal was effortless and genuine, and Mari suspected the latter attracted John Stewart on a level she couldn't hope to compete with. The thought that Shayera might even be at the party suddenly occurred her. Hell, she probably would be. What if she came with John? What if-

_Stop it Mari, _she chided herself. Turning into a neurotic, paranoid harpy was _not_ the way she intended to celebrate John's birthday.

He'd said he would come a little bit late, so there was no need to wait up. With one final glance in the mirror, she retrieved her Gucci handbag from the shelf and left for what was sure to be a memorable night.

* * *

Flash was pleased with his handiwork. And given his penchant for trying ill-fated recipes he'd caught on television, this was a pretty momentous event in and of itself. Granted, his experience in the party planning department was thin at best. . .but he'd always wanted to throw one and having a bunch of other superheroes on the guest list was an added plus.

The scene was perfect. The tables at the front had been replaced with an expansive DJ booth, with his truly providing the honors. The turntables were more or less for show- the assorted mix of club hits, techno, and jazz all came courtesy of his iPod. If anything, the hardest part of his job was coordinating the various strobe lights and visual accoutrements. The place was lit up like a Parisian nightclub.

There was a dance floor of course, on which he was delighted to see a lot of the League's resident single (and beautiful) female members not only dancing but looking spectacular doing it. He could make out Fire and Ice, both dressed to impress and eyeing the DJ booth rather appreciatively. He gave them a wave and made a mental note to get a dance in before the night was over. The music was perfect after all, the kind of bass-heavy techno-pop that could literally make anyone start moving.

There were a good forty people in attendance, which was perfect for the medium-sized space. Hawk and Dove were involved in some good-natured fight at the bar, while behind it Black Canary mixed drinks with an ease that suggested hero work might not have been her first profession. Beside her, Green Arrow chatted affably with some of the newer arrivals. He was one of the few Leaguers who still kept a secret identity from the rest of the roster, and as such was the only one whose version of 'dress to impress' entailed his Green Arrow costume. Flash chuckled to himself. It was the only time that superhero garb had ever looked out of place on the Watchtower.

Other familiar faces included Huntress, Question, Booster Gold, Zatanna, B'Wana Beast, Aztec, Gypsy, and Crimson Fox. Some of them were hard to recognize without their 'work clothes', and some of them were simply current and former non-powered Watchtower personnel.

"Ugh, turn this off," complained Huntress, materializing next to him in the makeshift DJ booth.

Wally flashed her a look of annoyance. "Hey, I like Rihanna."

"Me too, but not this one. Total party killer."

"Yeah, speaking of which. . ." Flash gestured pointedly to the Question, who somewhat unsurprisingly stood aloof at the door. He wore a casual brown blazer, black designer t-shirt, slacks, and loafers. It would have been the perfect attire, were it not for the faceless mask. Somehow without the trench coat and hat that thing was even creepier.

Huntress rolled her eyes. "Okay, touché. He refused to part with the mask, alright. I'm just lucky I got him out of that godawful coat."

"You really think that helped?" joked Wally. Nevertheless, he flicked to a different song.

"Well hey it's a- oooooh, showtime" Huntress said conspiratorially. With the music as loud as it was though, it might as well have been a whisper. "Look who just showed up."

His eyes followed hers to the door, where Mari strode into the party, treating the ground like her own personal catwalk. Though he hadn't touched the volume, the music seemed to sort of fade out as she made her way to the bar. Like everyone was holding a collective breath.

"Huhmunah. . ." gasped Wally.

Huntress snorted. "Yeah, I know right. Popular girl in high school all over again. But yeah, if you can manage to get your jaw off the floor, you'll notice who else is here. . ."

Wally followed the direction of her gaze until he realized. . .yeah, _that_ might get interesting indeed. . .

Shayera slammed down the shot glass, her ninth, to be exact. Across the table Atom Smasher had just finished his eighth. He didn't look like he'd even be able to go the distance on this one.

"Take it back yet?" asked the Thanagarian smugly.

The huge man looked warily at the last shot glass. "I. . ."

"C'mon big guy, put up or shut up."

Atom Smasher reached gingerly for the glass. Even got it halfway to his face before a whiskey-induced loss of coordination sent it tumbling from his fingers. "Shit," he mumbled. "Fine, you win. I'm. . ." He sighed. "I'm a weenie."

Atom Smasher's eyes strayed past Shayera for a brief second, returned, and then darted back over her shoulder. That was followed by the almost imperceptible rustle of dozens of heads turning toward the same object. Or person.

Shayera slowly craned to look, expecting (okay, hoping) to see John. Instead she saw Mari, striding into the room with the grace and poise of runway model. It was interesting though. . .she hadn't come in with John, the man of the hour. Shayera didn't know what that meant, or if it even meant anything. But she could always hope.

Shayera started to rise, only to feel a restraining hand on her shoulder. She glared at the huge man. "What?"

"You're drunk."

"No, _you're_ drunk."

"Yeah, but I still know you going over to Mari isn't a good idea. Everybody knows-"

The look she fixed him with could've spoiled fresh milk. He withdrew his hand. "Just be nice."

"Am I ever not?"

* * *

Mari was glad to see a lot of familiar faces from the League, such as Shining Knight, Gypsy, and Fire. Vigilante didn't seem to be in attendance, which was too bad since she didn't know many of the other members that well (oftentimes because she simply intimidated them). It was a phenomenon she'd been dealing with ever since her teen years, and had consequently grown accustomed to.

She managed to get a glimpse of Flash at the DJ booth, and gave him a quick thumbs up for playing music that she actually recognized. John would hate it, she knew, but everyone needed to get out of their comfort zone now and again. And Lord knew John needed to cut back more than any of them. All the back-to-back missions and recruit training were running him ragged.

"Hey," said an annoyingly familiar voice from the side. Mari stepped back to see Shayera leaning causally against one of the pillars. She was wearing an eye-catching golden blouse over a black miniskirt and boots. Her hair hung straight and long down her back, which the blouse left mostly bare to accommodate her wings.

Simple. Elegant. Beautiful. The Thanagarian had spent a minute fraction of the time and money Mari had on getting ready for the event. And Mari found herself feeling a rare insecurity that only seemed to creep up around Shayera.

"Hey," Shayera repeated. Smiling, but only with her mouth.

"Oh. Hi." Mari reflexively straightened up, regaining her composure. "Having a good time?"

Shayera laughed. "Yeah, I just drank Atom Smasher there under the table. Wildcat's been talking a lot of nonsense too, so maybe I'll straighten him out before the end of the night. What about you, just getting here?"

Mari nodded.

"Where's John then?" Shayera asked.

Mari bristled at the other woman's tone, the implications hidden in the way she'd asked the question. "He'll be here soon," she said defensively.

"Of course." Shayera held out her right hand, which Mari noticed contained a drink. "Sicilian rum, you should try it it's actually pretty good stuff."

Mari rolled her eyes, but nevertheless took the proffered drink and downed it in one fell swoop. It tasted almost like honey, followed by a volcanic eruption. Her eyes went instantly blurry with tears.

Shayera whistled. "Wow, never seen anyone drink it like that before. What did you think?"

Mari coughed as gently as she could. "I think it tasted cheap, diluted, and overpriced, to be perfectly honest."

"Oh?" Shayera pushed off the pillar. "You know, speaking of cheap, diluted, and overpriced. . .I bought a bottle of your signature perfume last week. I figure you owe me. . ." she ticked off her fingers for dramatic effect, "$102.99 plus tax."

Mari furnished an icy smile. "Darling, I can't help it that glamour simply. . .rolls off some people."

Shayera didn't miss a beat. "_Clearly_. Anyhow, the bar's actually pretty good. Lot of other options if the Sicilian's not your thing. I'm gonna go talk to Wally so. . .enjoy."

_Bitch_, Mari's cattier side couldn't help but think as Shayera walked away. It wasn't even the banter, really. There'd been a time when they could tease each other and still remain friendly, despite being in love with the same man. But then something had changed. Not with Mari, that was for damn sure. She hadn't changed a bit. It was John and Shayera, and the ever-growing feeling that they were hiding something.

Any further reflection was jarred by the music's abrupt ending. "Ladies and Gentlemen," Flash's jovial voice announced from the speakers, "I present to you. . .the man of the hour. . .John Stewart!"

A more accomplished DJ might have managed to cue in a musical theme, not that it was necessary. Mari found herself whistling and clapping with the rest of the attendees as her clearly-flustered lover came in. Flash finally caught on and started playing 50 Cent's 'In Da Club' much to John's obvious chagrin.

He saw her and after a few more compulsory 'happy birthday' wishes finally managed to get within range for a hug. For a brief second all of the dour thoughts that had just been forming dissipated. He smelled fantastic, looked great, and the heady rush of familiar attraction pushed everything else briefly to the background.

"Hey babe," he rumbled, smiling when he saw her.

She kissed him. "Hey yourself, birthday man."

"Yeah, yeah. . ." He looked around. "Hate it already."

"Well not for now you don't, Wally put a lot of work into this."

"Mmm." He didn't sound entirely convinced. "Hey you look great by the way."

Mari reached out and tweaked the collar of his black button-down shirt. "Right back at ya."

Another hip-hop song came on and Mari threw Wally one of her trademark exasperated looks. He gulped, and suddenly the track was replaced with a much smoother, soulful ballad.

"C'mon," Mari murmured in John's ear. "Let's dance."

John nodded, even as other couples began forming around them. Ollie and Dinah, behind the bartenders counter no less. A reluctant Vic and an equally stubborn Helena. Watching the rest of the attendees pair up was fun in a high school prom sort of way, but even as John held her close in his arms, she couldn't help but note Shayera at the tables. Not dancing (and even a room full of superheroes could doubtfully furnish someone with the stones to ask her). Staring. . at her and John.

_Forget about her_, Mari reasoned, reflexively pulling him even closer. _I'm with him. She's not. _Still, something about the way Shayera was looking at them. . .like she was actually hurting. . .

"Everything alright?" John asked. "You realize we've been standing still for the half the song already."

"Oh. Right." She took a deep breath and allowed herself to sway in his arms to the soft, husky melody being poured throughout the room. She tried to clear her mind of all the nagging doubts and insecurities and just enjoy being with the man she loved.

It worked for about thirty seconds. "What?" John asked when she abruptly stopped, stepping back.

"John, baby. . .we need to talk."

"About what?"

Mari opened her mouth to answer, but something told her that the middle of a makeshift dance floor wasn't the best place to have that conversation. So she tugged on his hand. "Outside."

"_What?"_ His voice was laced with pure and unadulterated confusion. "Mari what the hell-"

"Just come with me," she insisted, already weaving between dancing couples and toward the door.

She pushed it open and was glad to hear John step out and close the door behind them. "Mari, what is going on?"

She threw her hands up in frustration. "I don't know John, you tell me." Ever since that whole Shadow King thing. Or no, before that really. Ever since you and Batman's little 'Back to the Future escapade', something has been going on. Between you and Shayera.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do," she said, poking him forcefully in the chest. "The looks I always see you giving her. The looks she gives you. . .that woman is _heartbroken,_ John. But instead of moving on, she's just. . .waiting. Like she knows something about us and our future that I don't."

There it was again. Something in John's eyes had flashed both times she mentioned the future.

"What did you see, John?" she asked, softer this time.

"What did I see when?"

"In the future. That's what this is about right. That or Shadow King. You still haven't told me about what happened during those. . .events. What did you see in the future?" Mari asked, her voice cracking because even as the words poured out she knew what the answer would be.

John fixed her with a hard stare, as willing her to take the question back. Then, with a sigh he slumped back against the wall. "When I went to the future. . .I met my son."

An icy numbness settled in the pit of her stomach at those words. "Not. . .not _our_ son."

"No. He was. . .half human. Half Thanagarian."

"Ohmigod," Mari finally breathed. She felt dizzy, like she was going to be sick. "You're serious. And you told her?"

"She had the right to know," protested John.

Mari let out a humorless laugh. "So what, how did that conversation go, huh? 'Oh, don't worry we'll be together in the end, just let me have my fun with Mari in the meantime. Before you have my child, of course'."

"Hey," said John, raising his voice. "That is _not_ what I told her. I told her I was staying with you. I told her I was not going to be Destiny's puppet and-."

"Oh bullshit," spat Mari. "You already were, or else you wouldn't have told her in the first place. My God, no wonder she looks at you like that. At _me_ like that. I'm with the father of her future child."

"Mari, that is so beyond uncalled for-" John began, reaching for her arm.

Mari slapped his hand away. "No, _you_ are so beyond uncalled for, you ass!" She wiped furiously at the wayward tears that had begun forming in her eyes. "When were you gonna tell me? Our second anniversary? The honeymoon? The divorce?"

"Well you know what," he shot back angrily, "probably never, because I knew you'd overreact like this."

The words hung between them in a horrible silence, Mari processing what he'd just said. She straightened up. Wiped the last tears from her eyes and stepped back even further. This feeling, it was so _unfamiliar_. Like being on a ship and suddenly realizing that it's about to capsize. With a start she realized that perhaps for the first time, her heart was breaking.

"Go to hell, John Stewart," she said softly. And then she left, leaving him stunned and speechless right outside the door of his birthday party.

* * *

When John re-entered the party, he did his best to smile though the emotion was so disingenuous that if any the partygoers had been the least bit sober they would have picked up on it. Glumly, he found a secluded, empty table in the far corner and took a seat. That conversation had not gone well.

"Hey soldier," said a familiar voice behind him. He looked up briefly to see Shayera, circling behind him, two glasses in her hands. Her eyes were a bit glassy but at least she could still walk straight. "Mind if I take a seat?" she inquired.

He shrugged. "Go for it?"

The red-haired woman did just that, pulling up directly across from him. The table really wasn't that big, and their knees bumped underneath. If she noticed, she wasn't showing. Although she didn't move her knee either. . .

"Two glasses huh?" John said. "A bit much, don't you think?"

Her eyes twinkled. "Don't tell me you've forgotten about my drinking abilities already, John Stewart. How many times have I drunk you under the table before?"

"Touche," he admitted, smiling a bit despite himself.

"Besides, this second glass isn't for me, it's for you." She reached over and slit across the table. "Guaranteed to turn that frown upside down."

He peered down into the dark liquid suspiciously. "What is it?"

"Doesn't matter. Now drink, birthday boy."

John sighed and took a gulp of the strange concoction. The alcohol stung, but then a pleasant, citrus flavor settled in, making for a decent buzz and a tart, yet refreshing aftertaste.

"Ha. I knew you'd like it," said Shayera, smiling in the wake of her own sip. She was looking at him so openly that John had to revise his earlier assessment. Her eyes weren't glassy, they were luminous. Like layers of pretense had been stripped away, revealing the true Shayera underneath.

He shook his head. _Remember, girlfriend. Right_. Besides, that was all probably just the alchohol talking. Hell, he had dated Shayera for quite some time, and it wasn't like the attraction had ended when the relationship did. It was natural that he should feel so. . .drawn to her. Natural, but horrible timing all things considered.

"Whatcha thinkin?" Shayera asked, cocking her head to the side in an oddly fetching manner. Her knee bumped his again, definitely not by accident. The sparks were like sticking a fork into an electrical outlet.

John pursed his lips. "I'm thinking. . .that you're a bad influence," he said, jokingly.

She gave a coy smile. "Not bad enough," she said softly. Then, completely switching gears before he could think too hard on that one, "Hey, where's Mari I haven't seen her recently."

"She left," John said flatly. "We had a bit of a spat."

"About what?" wondered Shayera, trying to conceal the rush of pleasure that the news gave her.

John seemed on the verge of telling her, but then he shook his head, and leaned away. "I. . .don't really want to talk about that right now."

Shayera nodded. "It's okay. We can talk about whatever you want."

"You should just let me mope over here," said John with a sigh. "Don't waste the whole rest of your night though-"

She snorted. "Oh, stop already with the 'woe is me' crap. You're not sitting over here in a depressed bubble for the rest of the night, I won't have it! Now talk or else I'll bring Booster Gold over here and tell him you've been dying to see his Gorilla Grodd impression-"

"Alright?" John exclaimed, actually breaking out into laughter. He gave her a mock glare. "You don't play fair, Shayera."

"All's fair," she said simply. She didn't add the 'in love and war part', because it was so dangerously close to the truth.

* * *

_Watchtower Orbital Station_

_Main Deck_

_The Next Day_

"Mari," said Mr. Terrific without looking up, his fingers flying across three different holographic screens. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

She cleared her throat. "I um, I want an assignment."

"Mmm hmm. . .I should be able to find one for you in the next few weeks."

"That's too long."

He looked up. "Too long? What's the hurry?"

"I just really need something to divert my mind, okay," Mari told him. "Don't you have any open missions?"

"Afraid not, we have a lot of newbies who need the live experience and- wait, okay here's something."

"What?"

"Kasnia. We received a message from the queen of Kasnia- you've been there correct?"

"Kasnia. . .yeah, yeah. I went there for a show a few years back. Man that was one weird place."

"Well, the years have been rather unkind, especially since the king's assassination and his daughter's rise to the throne. Apparently, the nation is nearing some medical and scientific breakthrough, but repeated terrorist attacks threaten to derail the process."

Mari drummed her fingers impatiently on the edge of the command station. "That's nice and all, but I was thinking something on a bit of a. . .bigger scale," she began.

"Then you'll have to wait," said Mr. Terrific matter-of-factly. "Look, I don't know what it is that has you itching to get out of here and vent some steam, but I can _guarantee_ you that Kasnia is more than far enough away from whatever or whoever you're trying to get distance between."

Mari didn't bother to comment on his assessment. "Fine, whatever. I'll take it. Just send me the mission briefing-"

"Not so fast. You'll be partnered with Flash."

Mari winced. She hadn't talked to John in the day that had elapsed since the incident, and she doubted being cooped up with his best friend on a peacekeeping mission wouldn't suit her too well either. "You didn't say anything about this being a two-man job."

"Well it's not. It's technically a three-man job, Mari. Flash already had the assignment, but all the Mark X's have to have a minimum of two flight-licensed members on board. If you want to go, you'll have to find someone trained who still has theirs." The way he said it was probably a subtle dig at Mari for losing her own certification in a recent adventure, but she found herself strangely not caring. "Alright, I'll find a third. Any other 'parameters'?"

"Nope. Have fun, and bring some warm jackets. Kasnia can get cold this time of year."

* * *

Greg Saunders, known to most of the League as Vigilante, hadn't gone to the party. It was partially because of his loner nature. He saw the League as work and not a place to socialize, especially not with bad music and cheap drinks. True, there were a few good friends like Justin and Mari that he'd found along the way. . .but whatever was going on at the Watchtower sounded like plumb idiocy no matter how you looked at it.

That said, he woke up the next morning one of the few inhabitants of the Watchtower without a hangover (and inhabiting his own bed). 'Own' being relative considering he had a much nicer place down planetside. He instinctively looked for the window, only to remember that up here there was no atmosphere to filter radiant, sunlit beams of morning dawn into the window. Hell, there wasn't even a window.

Truth be told, he didn't even hate it anymore. The cramped living space, the artificial lighting and the recycled air. In fact, he thought as he exited the shower, for such a busy space station there was still a pretty good sense of priva-

The sight that greeted him as he stepped out of the bathroom, one hand holding a towel around his waist and the other a toothbrush, was enough to stop him dead in his tracks. Sitting on the kitchenette's counter, legs crossed in pure repose, was Mari. Dressed in full costume.

The toothbrush dropped from his mouth. "The hell. . ."

"Relax cowboy," said Mari, eventually remembering to avert her eyes.

"How'd you get in here?" he asked incredulously.

"Oh please, like you'd ever bother getting that broken biometric scanner on the door fixed." She paused realizing that this was the longest she'd ever seen him without the mask. Kind of cute, she decided. He had lean, aristocratic features that seemed somehow interrupted by the sardonic smile and the thin, almost imperceptible scar that grazed his cheekbone. And he was _cut_- broad shoulders, six-pack, tapered waist, the works. . .

"What?" Greg wanted to know. She was giving him some kind of weird look. He put a hand self-consciously to his face, feeling rather embarassed.

Mari shook her head sharply, as if to force her thoughts in a less awkward direction. "Just thinking, you should ditch the bandana more often."

Greg rolled his eyes. "I do. In the _privacy_ of my own home." It sounded like, 'prahvacy of mah own home'.

"Nothing I haven't seen before Clint Eastwood. Look, I know it's pretty rude of me but I'm in a hurry and I just have one question for you."

His eyes narrowed, even as he cinched the towel tighter around his waist. "Go on."

"Are you flight certified on the new Javelins?"

"Um, the watchumcallits, the Mark X's? Yeah. Why?"

"Great. Now hurry up and put some clothes on, you're coming with me on an assignment."

"Whoa hold up," he protested. "That was two questions-"

"Wasn't a question. I need a licensed flier to go with Flash and I to Kasnia, and you're the only one I know who fits that qualification and isn't recovering from. . .Lantern's birthday party."

The way she said 'Lantern' instead of 'John' wasn't lost on Greg, but he decided not to press her on it. "What if I had other plans?"

"Well. . ." Mari bit her lower lip thoughtfully. "I guess I'd have to remind you about that favor you owe me."

Greg's face went red enough to make him long for that bandana right about now. "Oh, right. . .the um, favor."

"So it's settled. 1200 hours on the main deck?"

"Yeah. Sure."

"Great." She gave him a wink and then with the grace of a cat slid off the counter and onto the ground. "Seeya then." She opened the pressure door and stepped out into hallway, leaving a somewhat-dazed Greg behind.

He blinked, and after confirming he wasn't dreaming let out a low whistle. _What the hell was that about? _He wondered. And why was Mari so interested in Kasnia all of a sudden? More importantly, why hadn't she just asked John to go with her? Had he done something to hurt her? If so, then Greg's already low opinion of the Green Lantern would just about flatline. Taking a woman like Mari for granted seemed to Vigilante a particularly awful kind of lunacy, and that wasn't even just because he was half in love with Mari herself.

He sighed, knowing that he wouldn't find out what was going on until they were well on their way to Kasnia. Giving up the mental gymnastics, he went to start packing his luggage.

_Kasnia. . .well I'll be damned. . ._

* * *

**A/N**: Well, this is just a sneak peek at my next big project. I love Batman and Wonder Woman but there's a lot of other interesting characters floating around in the JLU animated verse so I figured I'd give some of them a grand adventure and sort through some of the relationships that the cartoon left hanging (lookin at you GL and Hawkgirl). Oh, and most of this was done on my crappy work computer, so apologies for any typos, etc. I did edit but the story hasn't been to a beta yet, so any mistakes are mine alone.

Anyway, if you're reading this then thanks for making it through the first chapter. Any comments, suggestions, critiques welcome.

-C


	2. Chapter 2

"Those who make peaceful revolution impossible, make violent revolution inevitable."

-JFK

* * *

**Watchtower Orbital Station**

**Sometime in the morning**

Though he was certainly no saint, and had woken up in a few strange beds before, Wally West was pretty sure this was the first time it had happened aboard the Watchtower. Startled by the realization, he shot up, only to elicit a muffled groan of protest from the woman lying next to him.

"Oh wow," he muttered, knowing even before he looked down that it was the Brazilian beauty Fire. She made some unintelligible comment in Portuguese before passing back to sleep and yanking more of the covers her way. He gulped and tried to remember exactly what had happened. They'd drunk, danced. . .she'd invited back to her place but he thought he remembered wanting to say no, for some reason. A really good reason, if it made him think twice about a night with Fire. Shoot, what could it have been?

A knocking on the door shook him from his thoughts. "Beatriz!" came a somewhat familiar voice. "Open up baby, it's me, Alex. I wanted to talk about last night."

This woke Fire up pretty quickly. "_Merda!" _she hissed. "This is bad."

Wally blinked, acutely aware of the fact that in addition to being in bed with his teammate, he was also quite naked. He wasn't sure which part she was referring to.

"That's Alex!" she said, urgently. "Atom Smasher, my boyfriend."

Oh, right, _that's_ why it had been a bad idea. "You-you have a boyfriend?"

Fire was already out of bed, desperately throwing clothes at Wally and trying to put her own on at the same time. "Yeah, technically. We had a fight yesterday."

"Uh huh." He imagined the next party having a disclaimer attached: Guaranteed to ruin steady relationships, singles only. "You and Atom Smasher? Really?" He next imagined getting hit by the gigantic Leaguer. It wasn't a pretty thought. "You think he'll be mad?"

The look Beatriz gave him was completely incredulous. "Lemme put it like this: how fast can you run?"

* * *

**Watchtower Orbital Station**

**Cafeteria**

"Sleep well?"

John Stewart chuckled. "I'm a Marine I never-"

"Sleep well," finished Shayera from behind him. It was an old routine of theirs, usually caused by Shayera waking up first and teasing him awake. The familiarity of it made John's heart skip a beat, just for a moment. He set his tray down at the first table available, and unsurprisingly she joined him.

"I like what you're doing with the hair," she said conversationally between the first mouthfuls of sushi.

John self-consciously ran a finger over the short layer of hair he'd allowed to grow on his formerly bald pate. Contrary to popular belief, he hadn't shaved it off in the first place due to balding, and it was a minor relief to see it coming back in evenly. "Haven't decided whether I'll keep it or just cut it all off again."

"Makes you look younger," said Shayera. "Call me nostalgic I guess."

John chuckled at this. "Not hungover?"

"What, from last night?" She laughed dismissively. "I was drinking more than that fresh out of the Academy." She took a sip of orange juice. "How're things with Mari, you talk to her yet?"

"Not exactly."

"Doesn't sound like the John Stewart I know, waiting to clear the air."

"She left on a mission, actually.

"Oh?" There was a tinge of mirth in Shayera's voice. "Taking avoidance a bit far, is she?"

"Maybe," said John. He didn't look up. "Maybe she has a right to be mad."

"Oh, she definitely has a right to be mad," said the Thanagarian. "Doesn't mean she has the right to run off instead of talking things out."

John gave her an odd look. "I guess it wouldn't be the first time a woman's done that to me."

Her smile was amused and sad at the same time. "Touché."

* * *

_**K'Naedi**_** Headquarters**

**Kasnia**

Though it resembled a cave, the night's meeting location was completely manmade. Carved out of the mountainside by rural peasants as a place of shelter and safety, the structure stood to this very day as a reminder of the ingenuity and determination of the land's native people.

These, reflected Viktor as he leafed through the latest report, were the true masters of this land. The _Naedi_ and their descendants, who had built, toiled, and prospered for so long, only to have their home overrun with foreignerz and crumpled into the country known as Kasnia. It was the sad story told to Viktor by his father and their fathers before him, but only in this generation could something be done about it.

_K'Naedi_. In their language, literally 'sons of the _Naedi_'. It was an apt name for the group, which under Viktor had seen an unprecedented swelling in the ranks. It was a feat that he could take partial credit for, though the real reason behind this was the now-deceased King. Toward loyal Kansans, he had been a benevolent and gracious ruler. But his disdain for ethnic and cultural minorities, such as the _Naedi_, had gone further than even his predecessors. His secret police had been dispatched by the thousands to maintain strict martial law over the region, meeting even the slightest hint of dissent with public beatings and humiliations, imprisonment, and in some cases summary execution.

That was the fate that had befallen Viktor's younger brother, Mikhail, three decades earlier. A rash, hotheaded youth who had punched an officer for harassing his girlfriend. Viktor could still remember those exhilarating few seconds, followed by a horrible dread as Kasnian soldiers poured into the bar raining vicious blows from their rifle butts and steel-toed boots down onto poor Mikhail, the girl screaming and pleading until she too was silenced by a brutal backhand from one of the officers.

Mikhail was dragged outside, his hands roughly tied behind his back. It was late in the evening, but thanks to all the commotion the villagers had begun to wander outside, curious what was going on. The officer in charge didn't stop them; he wanted them to see what came next.

A suitable tree was found, and soon one of the soldiers emerged from a nearby shop with a large coil of rope in tow. And a bucket. The younger townspeople were confused, not even able to comprehend what was going on. The older knew better, but they also knew that Mikhail's fate was out of their hands now. They had no choice but to stay silent, lest they suffer the same fate.

The bucket was flipped over, and Mikhail forced to stand on it. He was slowly coming out of the shock of his earlier beating, realizing what was happening to him. When the noose was roughly slipped over his neck, he knew for sure. His eyes widened and he struggled futilely, unable to even budge an inch with the two soldiers grasping him firmly on either side. Viktor could remember screaming 'No!' and rushing toward his brother, only to be smashed in the face with a rifle stock. The skin had split from the blow, and it was a scar he wore to this very day.

The commanding officer's words were simple. "This boy forgot his place," he pronounced to the assembled villagers. "Take care that you don't share his mistake." He then gave a soft nod to one of his subordinates and the bucket was kicked from beneath Mikhail's feet, leaving the boy to flail helplessly, suspended by the rope. The village watched in abject horror as he died, his struggling body finally going into its last death throes before sagging into lifelessness, swinging idly under the night sky.

If there was an ounce of remorse on the officer's face, it did not show. He unsheathed his saber and in one clean stroke cut the rope, allowing Mikhail's corpse to fall to the ground. Viktor remembered the soldiers leaving, satisfied that an example had been made. And then his mother, Mikhail's girlfriend, and the other villagers rushing to his dead brother. He didn't join them. Not in reclaiming the body, not in planning the funeral, not in laying Mikhail's body to rest.

Instead, he went to the local craftsman and used all of his savings to buy some supplies. No guns, they had been outlawed for the _Naedi_ to produce or possess. But a superb hunting crossbow. And a knife.

He methodically packed other supplies from home. An old set of binoculars, a compass. And some rope. By the time his family returned from the funeral, he was long gone.

Now, thirty years later, Viktor was no longer the bold individual he'd been in his youth. With experience had come maturity and a razor-sharp intelligence that had allowed him to amass the greatest revolutionary force in Kasnia's history.

* * *

**The Javelin**

"So that was a good party, huh," said Wally, officially breaking the stale silence that had settled in the Javelin's cabin. Vixen seemed trapped in her own thoughts, while Vigilante was trying (and failing) to reclaim lost sleep.

Vixen looked up from the passenger seat. "Yeah, it was nice."

The lack of enthusiasm in her voice was obvious, but Wally didn't press her on it. Everyone knew that something major had gone down between her and John during the party, after which she'd disappeared and John had been seen commiserating with Shayera. Rumors abounded, but then where John and Mari were concerned that was nothing new.

He turned back to Vic, whose cowboy hat was sloped down, covering the part of his face that the bandana didn't. "You missed out man, it was a good time."

Vigilante sighed. "Wasn't interested then, not interested now."

"What if I told you that Ice was asking about you," mused Wally. "I mean, Fire and I hit it off pretty well, but I distinctly remember Ice asking if I'd invited you. Bet you could've at least scored a date Vig."

Mari laughed. "Wait, never mind that, doesn't Fire have a boyfriend?"

"Um, yeah." Flash gave a nervous cough, his eyes now on the controls. "Found that out this morning."

"Aww, poor baby," she teased. She turned to Greg. "That said, whatever you do don't listen to Wally. I'd say his matchmaking skills are suspect at best."

Vic tipped the brim of his hat up with a solitary finger, peeking out at the two of them from underneath. "I have an idea, how about we discuss the actual mission briefing."

He said it so mildly that Mari didn't even find herself bristling as she normally would have at such words. She shrugged. "Not much to it really. The new queen of Kasnia requested our assistance, partially for peacekeeping and partially just for good P.R. We all know what the country's been through recently, with Vandal Savage and. . .all that. Now Queen Audrey, who's also a good friend of Diana's, is trying to launch a new scientific initiative which will generate a lot of much-needed revenue for the country. But, there's been an increase in terrorist activity, including a nearly-successful assassination attempt. So here we are, to bolster public confidence and also protect the queen until the project is unveiled." She eyed Vic. "That sum it up for you?"

* * *

**Democratic Republic of Kasnia**

**Illyentov, Captial City**

Queen Audrey saw the transport craft appear in the sky even before the reporters, but she made no move to show it. Soon enough, the journalists and cameramen caught the day's biggest news story approaching too, and half of those cameras would be watching her as intently as a hawk, looking for any sign of emotion. Elation, fear, apprehension. . .the slightest facial twitch could provide fodder for hours of 'expert analysis' on the news cycle, even in a country as small as Kasnia.

So she remained impassive and serene, surveying the crowd of reporters and civilians with what she hoped was a dignified and regal grace. Today, hopefully, would be the beginning of a resurgent public confidence in the throne, and a concurrent decrease in terrorist attacks and assassination attempts. She didn't even bother to try to hide the hopefulness from her face. The Justice League, to her rescue again. . .

To her right she saw Diric raise a hand briefly to his ear. He flashed her a reassuring smile, as if to say that whatever he'd just been notified of was already being taken care of. Public relations bonanza or not, the welcoming ceremony for the Justice League envoy was a security nightmare. No one was really concerned for the superheroes of course- whoever the League sent would be more than capable of taking care of themselves. The queen however was an enormous target, and this was one of her most public appearances in months. No better opportunity to send a permanent message, which was why the royal guard and several contingents of the national armed forces were swarming the area. Diric and ten men stood at the podium next to the landing platform with her. Another dozen sharpshooters were positioned in every tower and parapet within an approximate kilometer-and-a-half radius. Diric told her he wished it could've been two. A bright, sunny day like this was a sniper's wet dream, and an extraordinary talent with extraordinary equipment could put a bullet through the Queen's forehead from even further away than that.

She thought of the other security precautions. Blocked off road, reinforced with armed guards. Military helicopters circling above. She was as safe as she was ever going to get, as she'd told Diric. And shying away from everything that posed a security risk was no way to govern effectively as Queen.

The aircraft, a new model Javelin from the looks of it, descended perfectly onto the pre-designated landing platform. The sun was almost but not quite overhead, making for some pretty dramatic shadow effects. Audrey's own heart was starting to race a little, despite herself.

"Here we go," said Diric softly.

* * *

_**K'Naedi**_** Headquarters**

**Kasnia**

"It's like they want us to strike," mused Talin, a senior _K'Naedi_ commander. He couldn't see her face, over the telephone but he could picture the eagerness etched across it. Her wishes were clear.

"I can see it as well as you," he replied neutrally.

"Then surely you understand. We must attack. I have drawn up several plans, and begun amassing the necessary forces. The queen is well-protected, but exposed. They are screening attendees to the welcoming ceremony, but they've completely ignored the fact that behind the landing platform is forest edge. It presents a difficult angle of attack, putting the Justice League craft between us and the queen. But if we could get even two of our fighters into that forest, a well placed rocket would destroy the entire platform.

"The forest is guarded," he said wearily.

"By a minimal contingent of poorly-trained troops. They won't be expecting an actual attack- it would be suicidal-"

"Yes it would."

"But," she continued insistently, "who among us wouldn't give their life to strike back against the royal house. Two rocketmen, and a few others to dispatch the guards posted around the forest perimeter. Even a god distraction should do the trick. We have the rocket launchers, and our men know how to use them. Even myself, if need be."

"Wholesale slaughter does not sit right with me," he said, simply but forcefully.

"Our people have been slaughtered, 'wholesale', for generations!" She paused. "One might think that the years have dulled your sense of duty."

"You know nothing of my sense of duty," he told her, his voice hard as granite. "I have seen too many comrades, too many innocents, both _K'Naedi_ and Kasnian, die. Blood spilled for its own sake holds no interest for me, not anymore. Killing the queen now would only bring us further from our goals."

Talin laughed. "What goals? Complete submission to the royal house, to the Kasnian government. Perhaps we can become their fawning slaves, fighting over their table scraps while they take the last of our ancestral land and eliminate us at leisure!" There was anger in her voice. "What goal?"

"Peace," said the old man.

"Oh, and that's why you ordered a hit on the queen."

Viktor froze. "What?"

"Check the news. Or ask that spy you have hidden in the palace. There was an assassination attempt. If you did not order it, then someone certainly wants it to look that way."

"Where did this happen?"

"The Gardenia. The assassin was identified as one of us."

"Impossible," snapped Viktor. "Who was he?"

Talin laughed. "How should I know? If anything, I'm surprised that you do not."

"Watch your tone," cautioned Viktor. "I will investigate this. _You_, refrain from acting rashly."

"I only act in the interests of our people," she said. "Talin out."

"Viktor, out."

* * *

**Democratic Republic of ****Kasnia**

**Illyentov, ****Capital City**

Audrey's heart sank when she saw the Javelin's occupants disembark. Mr. Terrific had informed her that whoever the League sent depended completely on availability. Still, she'd been hoping her old friend Diana might be coming. Or even that surly Batman. He might not have been all that sociable, but the name recognition would have helped her, and he was extremely popular in Kasnia.

Neither were anywhere to be seen. In fact the only one with any remote connection to Kasnia as far as she could tell was the Flash. He was also the first to get off, striding jauntily to the center of the platform, a huge smile plastered on his face. He'd been invaluable in stopping Vandal Savage's henchmen from controlling that awful rail gun, true. Still, he looked like an idiot, in her opinion. Hardly the serious beacon of power and stability she'd hoped for from the League.

The second to exit was a strikingly beautiful black woman, Vixen, if Audrey recalled correctly. She looked somewhat familiar, though the queen was certain they'd never met. This one was a step in the right direction, and would certainly help sway the minds of Kasnia's heterosexual male demographic. Even Diric seemed a bit taken aback by the woman's beauty.

Last to step down was a cowboy, straight out of America's infamous John Wayne movies. White hat, red bandana pulled up beneath his eyes. . .this one didn't even look like a superhero. Audrey had never even heard of him, and his posture and stride gave nothing away, save a calm, quiet strength. He received just as much applause as the others, but seemed not to even notice.

So, all in all a serviceable group that might be useful, though certainly not politically. Critical y elements of the Kasnian media would no doubt deride the League's assistance as a third-string throwaway gesture Nevertheless, they seemed a capable group and with the rising tensions at home, she would take all the help she could get.

A technician gave her the signal, meaning that her collar mic was now active. She smiled beatifically at the crowd, then at the newly arrived Justice League representatives.

"Good morning," she said warmly, her gaze fixing upon the trio. "And welcome to Kasnia."

* * *

_**Kasnian countryside**_

_**Thirty**__** Years Ago**_

Finding out the commander's name had been easy. Lyman, he was told. A man whose ruthless reputation preceded him. He was one of the King's most trusted advisors, even more so than some of the generals. That he had been inflicted on Victor's village was, as they said, the worst sort of misfortune.

Viktor agreed. But it was nothing compared to the misfortune he would visit upon Lyman. His entire life now consisted of vengeance, retribution for that single horrific act. Consequences be damned. Viktor certainly didn't expect to survive his revenge, nor did he much care to. As long as the act was done.

Lyman himself lived well. On his military commission, added to royal bonuses, the commander had been able to construct an expansive lake house for himself. It was fifty odd miles away, but Viktor could almost taste the freshwater air. He traveled on foot, avoiding the military convoys and patrols that frequented the roads. He survived on small game. Rabbits, squirrels, and fish when he could find a decent stream. Sometimes he used the crossbow, though he also took the opportunity to become familiar with the hunting knife. It's heft, its weight, its feel. One unfortunate mountain lion earned the dubious honor of being its first victim. If Viktor had his way, Lyman would be the second.

He caught up with him in a matter of weeks. It could have been a swifter trip, but contending with random troop patrols and forest wildlife itself had delayed the journey. He'd nearly died many times, frozen from hypothermia or cornered by ravenous wolves, even an infected wound from an old bear trap.

But yet here he was, he'd made it to the clearing of forest where Lyman was said to live. Twenty odd foot soldiers that he could count, which meant maybe a dozen more that he couldn't. Seeing their hateful uniforms, their military cadence and stride, he wanted to kill all of them right there on the spot. The anger had returned, brimming hot and volatile.

He was going to do this smart though. So he waited until the weekend. A Friday night. The entire day he spent observing the commander and his men go about their daily business. Interestingly, there was also a pretty young woman. And a boy. They seemed very affectionate.

Not that it changed his plans in the slightest. He watched patiently as the men hitched rides out to town, where most likely they planned to drink free beer at the _Naedi_ taverns, humiliate the men and take some of the women for the night. Such things certainly weren't unheard of, though most of the _Naedi_ did not dare fight back. He hoped, tonight, that they didn't. He hoped the soldiers stayed out all night.

Few remained with the Commander and his family. Here, in the forest, the night was quiet, save the soft chirping of crickets, or the occasional rodent scampering in the grasses. It was time.

He pulled the crossbow's lever, nocking a lethal poised bolt into place. The timing on this was going to be tricky, since the guards would only come into range once during their rounds. Closer to the house, they were protected by the open grassy field. No way Viktor could close to them then without being seen.

So, at the edge of the forest, he waited. It was nighttime and a little cold, but strangely enough he didn't shiver. His focus was absolute. The crossbow, heavy in his hands, remained still, tilting ever so slightly with the rise and fall of his breathing. No moon, though he could see his targets well enough with that lantern they were carrying. They moved like sentries who guarded nothing of importance. No alertness, no caution. They were for all intents and purposes out on a stroll, certainly not expecting to have to act in the capacity they'd been assigned.

The sentries stepped into the killzone blissfully unaware. And then the further one died, a crossbow bolt entering and exiting his neck so fast that it didn't even alter his stride. He made it another step, then almost another before his body registered the fact that he was dead, and missing most of his throat. The corpse pitched forward just as the closer guard realized something was amiss.

Viktor had chosen the further of the two for a reason- it hemmed in the closer one, forcing him to maneuver around his newly-deceased companion in order to escape their mysterious killer. And it gave Viktor all the time in the world to nock another bolt. The scream beginning in the surviving guard's throat was cut brutally short, as the lethal projectile entered through his temple and flung him sideways, over his partner's body.

Viktor allowed himself a smile of satisfaction. He rose. Went over to inspect his handiwork. They were as dead as anything he'd ever seen, killed within the span of a few seconds. They wouldn't be missed until morning, and by then someone a whole lot more important was going to be dead too.

Viktor bent over and relieved them of their weapons. _Shenlong_ submachine guns, decent Chinese-made knockoffs of the Israeli Uzis. No suppressors, so it was going to sound like Armageddon, firing the things. He opted, in the end, to leave them. The silent and deadly crossbow would be more than sufficient, if he could do this job right.

He took one of their keyrings, and then moved in toward the house. The lights were all off, which would make his job a bit harder. Still, as big as the house was there couldn't be that many rooms. And once he found the one, he didn't intend to take long doing what needed to be done. Not too long, anyway.

The third key on the ring proved right, and with the turn of a knob he was in the house. Softly, he closed the door behind him and latched it. Then he froze. Someone was walking around.

"Ivan, is that you?" came a sleepy voice from above. Viktor's head flew up to where he could just barely make out a stairwell and a balcony. "Ivan?" The lights came on.

Viktor ran toward what he guessed was the living room, just as the third, and quite unexpected guard realized the truth. The man was well-trained, he didn't waste time ordering Viktor to stop, or surrender. In a flash, his sidearm was out and Viktor saw a sofa cushion right next to his head explode in a cloud of feathers. He scooted further behind the sofa, nocking an arrow. The guard was flying down the stairs now, pistol at the ready. His other hand was fumbling for his radio. A matter of seconds, if that, before he sounded the alarm to every soldier in the entire province.

Acting almost on autopilot, Viktor grabbed another sofa cushion at threw it at the soldier, who'd just arrived at the bottom of the stairs. The clapping reports of two more shots rang through the air, and this cushion seemed to combust in mid-flight, sending more feathers and cotton flying in every direction. In one fluid movement, Viktor and rose, crossbow coming to bear. He felt a round enter his shoulder. His _left _shoulder, which was saved his life and doomed the third guard. Because a fraction of a second later, Viktor's fully functional right arm was able to pull the crossbow's trigger.

The bolt pierced the guard's heart with a dull _thunk_, wheeling him back onto the stairwell.

Viktor wasted no time. Lyman couldn't possibly have slept through all that. He raced up the stairs, ignoring the screaming pain in his arm. He dropped the crossbow- difficult to impossible to reload without the use of both arms. He slipped the hunting knife into a reverse grip and skidded to a halt in the hallway, just as Lyman was running out of his bedroom with a shotgun. The commander's eyes widened. And he stumbled back, desperately trying to pump the chamber mechanism.

Victor gave the knife a small toss, catching the tip of the blade between his thumb and forefinger. The ominous crunching sound of the shotgun echoed through the hallway. Thirteen feet between him and Lyman. A little over a second before Lyman splattered him all over the wall.

He threw the knife, putting the force of his stride, of his entire body behind the throw. The blade seemed to hang between them, like a frozen moment in time.

And then it seemed like it couldn't happen fast enough. The razor sharp blade sunk through Lyman's arm, causing the commander to howl out in pain. He fell backward, discharging the shotgun into the ceiling and sending down a million chunks of wood and rafter.

In an instant, Viktor was on Lyman. He savagely kicked the shotgun out of the other man's grip, then yanked the knife out of his bicep, prompting another pained grunt. Lyman, who was bigger than Viktor, tried to leverage him off with his knees. Viktor headbutted him, breaking his nose. Then he brought a vicious elbow down into the commander's face, the satisfying crack of something in Lyman's jaw resonating throughout the hallway.

Lyman's eyes rolled up. He was lapsing into unconscious, which was the last thing Viktor wanted just yet. So he slapped him. Palm, then backhand. Quick and brutal enough to jolt Lyman awake.

Viktor brought the knife up, letting the blade hover in front of the commander's panicked eyes. Then he let it fall, downward until the tip rested just at the edge of Lyman's throat. "Do you remember me?" he asked, hoarsely.

Lyman said nothing, he was trembling so hard that even if he did it would have been unintelligible. Viktor lifted the knife just a bit, relaxing the pressure on Lyman's trachea. "Do you remember me?" he repeated.

"No," whispered the commander, insistently.

Viktor pointed to the scar on his own face, the one he'd received from the commander's rifle butt. "You gave this to me," he said. "Right before you executed my brother. He forgot his place, as you put it. So you strung him up, you piece of shit. You hung him, for _nothing. _And then you left our little village, you and your soldiers. You probably intended to forget all about what you'd done. And you would have too, except that I tracked you down, patiently. And waited. For this moment.

Lyman laughed, his head lolling to the side. "Ah, yes. The stupid _Naedi_ boy. I do believe that sounds familiar. And you were the other one, the pesky little brat who tried to interfere." He chuckled again, despite what was clear pain from the broken nose. "My, can you hold a grudge."

"You think this is funny?" screamed Viktor. "You killed my brother."

"And it served him right," Lyman shot back. "At least his lesson was learned quickly. Not like yours, my angry little _Naedi_ friend." His eyes met Viktor's. "Do you have any idea what my men will do to you? You'll be begging for death in the first five minutes, because that five minutes will feel like an eternity. Your imagination cannot begin to _conceive_ what we do to upstart maggots like yourself. So go ahead, kill me. You'll be captured, and tortured until your sanity is nothing but a quaint memory. And then when you are a broken, disfigured shell of your former self, you'll be made to watch your entire worthless village burned to the ground. Everything you love destroyed. Everyone you love, made to suffer until they die cursing your name."

Viktor smiled. "Are you done?"

Lyman closed his eyes, in response. And Viktor, his eyes hardened, did what he had come to do.

He was no expert, so it didn't last long. When he was done, he rose and slumped against the wall. His hands were bloody and shaking. The knife clattered to the ground before he realized he'd even dropped it. What he'd just done- it was different than he'd imagined. It made him sick.

He walked on unsteady feet into Lyman's room, hoping to sit and clear his head. Shockingly, there was already someone there, huddled up on the bed. No, make that two people. A beautiful woman, blonde and blue-eyed. She was crying.

And a boy, no more than five or six. Clearly the woman's son, though he'd inherited Lyman's jet black hair and pale gray eyes. He didn't cry. But there was something burning in his gaze that made Viktor immediately look away.

He didn't know what to say. And so when the words 'I'm sorry' left his lips, he was as surprised as anyone.

The woman just clutched her son tighter. That they'd been in the room the entire time while just outside he'd killed Lyman sickened him. He thought he might throw up.

"_Mitleid_, _Mitleid!"_ sobbed the woman. German, if he wasn't mistaken. He'd heard that higher ups in the armed forces often took German wives and mistresses- there was still a sizeable refugee population of German natives who'd fled the Red occupation in the aftermath of Hitler's war. Few spoke Russian, English, or any of the tribal languages. This woman, Lyman's wife, was clearly not one of them.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he tried, the words sounding laughable even as he formed them. Standing there, covered in her husband's blood. He stepped forward, raising a hand to calm her but with a shriek, the woman recoiled, pulling her son even closer. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she was repeating something over and over, a prayer perhaps. The child was still staring, an unsettling fury in his eyes.

So Viktor backed out of the room. He walked down the stairs, numb. His arm throbbed, but it was a pain that seemed removed, distant. Still, he had the presence of mind to rifle through the contents of the bathroom cabinet, where he found bandages and medicine for the pain. No antiseptic, but the liquor cabinet had massive quantities of vodka. Crude, but effective- though it hurt like hell.

On the way out, he caught a glance of his reflection in the living room mirror. In fifteen minutes he had aged ten years. He didn't recognize himself. The blood on his clothes, on his face. . .it repulsed him. His back was stooped, and lilting, an unconscious posture to help ease the pain from his bullet wound.

He'd expected to feel. . .something. Gratified, maybe. Relieved, at having killed his brother's murderer. Or even at a grander level, having struck a blow for his people, against the military machine of Kasnia.

Instead, he felt sick. It was a miracle he made it outside before vomiting. It helped, though, and when he finally reached secluded stream where he could rest, the clarity was refreshing. What he'd done would resonate for time to come, and no doubt cause serious repercussions. Part of that risk could have been eliminated by killing the woman and the child, but he couldn't allow himself to go there. Besides, they would remember, what, a young _Naedi_ man, with dark hair and dark eyes? That would narrow it down to thousands in dozens of different villages. Even Kasnia's military couldn't wage that kind of war.

But they would try. And they would wreak unspeakable horrors upon his people in the process. . .

Unless they had a leader. One who could show them how to fight back.

* * *

**Democratic Republic of ****Kasnia**

**Illyentov, ****Capital City**

**Now**

Audrey's speech was as perfunctory and charming as any career politician's though she certainly was not one. It was so good, in fact, that the League's complete silence went largely unnoticed. Seen and not heard, had been their maxim, and while Wally might have been inclined to try some of his trademark humor out on the Kasnian throngs, Audrey had specifically requested that none of the newcomers speak. At least, not until they could become acclimated enough to Kasnia to keep from making some awkward cultural gaffe. She'd been looking directly at Wally, in fact, when adding that last bit.

So, with a wave and a smile, the three were whisked away by Audrey's security team to a waiting limousine. Not through the crowds, but via a network of underground tunnels leading to an offsite garage. From there, three limousines, and two Bentleys would take off in separate directions. Four of the vehicles decoys to protect the fifth.

Inside the limo, Flash whistled. "Pretty elaborate security setup, I must say."

"Like it or not, I have many enemies," said Audrey curtly. "Such precautions are quite necessary."

"The _K'Naedi_ are like ghosts," supplied Diric. Seated beside the diminutive Audrey, he looked like a giant. Albeit a rather relaxed one. He ran a hand absently through his jet-black hair before explaining. "They are well-trained, well-armed, and while not suicidal would certainly be willing to sacrifice themselves if it meant getting to the queen."

"Sound like pleasant folks," muttered Vixen.

"They are not," said Audrey emphatically. "However, it is hard to root them out. They are only a small minority of the entire _Naedi_ population, but even the majority are extremely reticent to cooperate in the apprehension of these terrorists. They are viewed as something more akin to freedom fighters, really. Very difficult to root out."

"I hear your father had some pretty effective methods of 'rooting them out'," said Greg. It was literally the first thing he'd said since the inbound flight, and it caused every eye in the spacious limo cabin to turn his way.

Audrey blushed a deep scarlet and Vixen immediately whirled on her companion. "Greg!"

He shrugged. "I did a little research before coming, nothing a quick Google search couldn't turn up. Sounds like your father's answer to the _K'Naedi_ involved a lotta dicey tactics. International treaty violations and the like-".

"Now wait just a minute," interjected Diric. The King did nothing more than what needed to be done-"

Audrey held up a hand, silencing her security advisor mid-sentence. "He's right, Diric." She turned to the three Leaguers. "I loved my father. But his policies were misguided, at times. Never more so than in his handling of the _Naedi_. You see, the Soviet occupation of this country completely upset the balance of power. In the eyes of some, including myself, it was a balance that needed to be upset. But the fact remains that the nobles and royalty, my family included, lost everything. Many were executed outright, or sent to the gulags. Priceless treasures were destroyed, the palace ransacked and the capital city nearly razed, only to be renamed the City of the Sickle or some such nonsense. The _Naedi_, who had been oppressed and impoverished for so long, reveled in this reversal of fortune.

"But it wouldn't last long, as I'm sure you know. The Iron Empire was weakening. Stalin had gone mad, and his successors could barely stop the hemorrhaging his purges had caused. Their influence was spread too thin; they were waging too many proxy wars. So they began to loosen their grip. Kasnia was one of the first to be let go. As quickly as they had come, they were gone."

"And you father was restored to the throne," said Vixen, her eyes rapt with attention.

"Yes. He immediately militarized, built up the army. He retaliated against the _Naedi_ with a vengeance. Pacification, he called it. Though the thousands of dead and wounded civilians his army left in its wake might have considered things differently. The terrorist attacks increased for awhile, only to be met with more military force. Then my father relented somewhat, and peace came."

Wally nodded. "Until his death at least."

"Yes. The rebel hardliners see me as a second incarnation of my father. Just weaker, and therefore an easier target." She paused. "My goal is to break down the social and economic barriers that have perpetuated this segregation between mainland Kasnians and mountain peoples, such as the _Naedi_."

While Mari and Wally watched Audrey, Vigilante's focus had gone back to Diric. The security advisor had a neutral, genial expression, but he'd seen something twitch in Diric's eyes when Audrey mentioned the _Naedi_. There was a back-story there, he thought. Not that it mattered, since the League wouldn't be staying that long. He turned to Audrey. "How well are those efforts going?"

The queen gave a sheepish smile. "This is indeed the heart of the matter. You see, I myself only learned much of what I told you in the past few weeks. Under my father's rule, I was obsessively shielded from any reports of terrorist activity or the _K'Naedi_. Even my father didn't know who they were, he just saw the mountain people as a collective threat. This past month, my intelligence services have been working overtime to piece together much of what my father neglected to."

At that moment, the limo came to a sudden halt. The three visitors looked out to see themselves in the middle of a sprawling estate, complete with fountains, gardens, and immaculately-maintained walkways. Even the occasional Greek statue was scattered about.

Audrey cleared her throat. "Enough political talk for now, I would hate to bore you to death on your first day in my country, after all." She nodded to Diric, who stepped swiftly outside and held the door open for the queen.

"Very nice," murmured Wally, clearly impressed. For a moment, the queen even smiled back at him before reverting back to business. "I unfortunately have some matters that I must attend to, but Diric will be very happy to show you to your rooms. Your luggage will be arriving shortly, and will be transported by the palace workers as soon as possible. I will be checking back with each of you tonight."

"Thank, on behalf of us all," said Mari sincerely. "I hope that our presence will be able to make a difference here."

The queen nodded as she turned to leave. "So do I."

* * *

**Kasnian Mountains**

**Echo Cell HQ (Talin's Command Post)**

"Yuri," barked Talin impatiently. "I need the comm. frequency for our contact."

The thin, prematurely balding member of Talin's cell regarded her warily. "You can't mean Viktor's-"

"That is precisely what I mean. We must have that information here."

Yuri gulped. "Viktor would not approve. He is the only one who has ever spoken to the contact."

"Viktor will approve, if we are successful. And we will be." Talin's voice brooked no dissent.

Her underling nodded, and ran to one of the many consoles that lit the underground space. "We should have a record. . .here we are. Frequency as follows. Five-two-one-seven-seven-nine/ Eight-three-three-zero-eight-five."

"Arrange it," ordered Talin.

His fingers were a blur on the keyboard. "What if the contact doesn't answer? After all this is an unscheduled-"

"Who is this?" came a muffled voice over the speakers. Yuri nearly jumped out of his chair. Talin, for her part, only smiled.

"I am Commander Talin, one of Viktor's direct subordinates. Am I to assume that you are his contact within the palace?"

"Yes." The voice wasn't just muffled, it was digitally modulated. Very clever- even if their transmissions were intercepted, whoever it was could never have his voice traced back to him via voiceprint. "I must say, you sound rather. . .young."

Talin scowled. To many others, she did indeed appear quite younger than her thirty-five years. Born with pleasant, open features, it took a strict discipline to maintain the constant look of consternation she wore. Added to her general ruthlessness and efficiency, this kept most from underestimating her for her gender or age. This man, whoever he was didn't know her though. She poured an extra bit of gravity into her voice. "I assure you, I'm quite seasoned in this struggle against the imperialist Royal House."

Despite the digital masking, amusement was still evident in the contact's voice. "Very well. Why have you contacted me?"

"Because I am concerned. As you know, a group of foreign so-called 'superheroes' have been invited onto Kasnian soil by the Princess. Clearly as a means of aiding her aggression against the _K'Naedi_. Our intelligence on them is limited, for the moment, but a preemptive strike would seem called for."

"A risky move."

"Certainly."

"So what do you want from me?" the contact asked.

"Simple. Within the palace they are untouchable. The queen and her superpowered allies. I want you to find a way to get them out into the city. My people will take care of things from there."

"You're asking a great deal," said the contact.

"You're being paid a great deal," countered Talin.

"Indeed. Still, I want something else, if I am able to accomplish this for you."

Talin frowned. Money was one thing. Simple, easy to transfer, and relatively safe. She had a feeling that the contact's request would complicate things much further. "Name it."

"I want to meet Viktor."

Her frown deepened. "Why?"

"I admire the man greatly, it is only natural I should want to meet him in the flesh."

"Perhaps, but it simply can't be done. Even if I trusted you that much, which I don't, Viktor certainly doesn't. You ask for the impossible."

The contact didn't answer at first, making for an unsettling silence throughout the command chamber. Talin wondered if he would actually refuse to help them. With all the money he was being paid, it was unlikely, but there had been an odd insistence on the prospect of meeting Viktor.

"Ah, well," the contact finally answered. "It was worth a shot. I will do what you ask, for my usual payment."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. Commander Talin out."

The connection clicked off.

* * *

**Democratic Republic of Kasnia**

**Iyentov, Royal Palace**

The first thing Mari did when she was ushered by the palace staff into her room was fall asleep. She awoke four hours later, groggy but well-rested, and set about arranging the expansive area to her tastes. It was a beautiful bedroom, with large windows looking out over the decorative gardens and a gorgeous manmade lake. The closet had room for all of her luggage and maybe five other peoples' as well, which was surprising considering how much Mari tended to pack. There was a widescreen television and audio system with surround sound, as well as a full bathroom (complete with Jacuzzi) and a kitchenette area. The queen, she thought, certainly knew how to treat her guests.

Mari showered and decided to dress in the civilian clothes she'd brought along. An orange blouse, designer jeans, and heels, the last of which she was just putting on when she heard a knock on the door. "Come in," she called. "It's not locked."

The door opened, revealing none other than Greg in the hallway. Vixen's eyes widened. He wasn't wearing his costume either, not even the damn bandana. Rather, he was attired in a white button-down shirt, jeans, and some nice Italian loafers. His hair was still on the longish side, and he still sported a bit of light stubble, but Vixen wasn't complaining. She whistled. "You clean up nice, Greg. How'd they ever get you to lose the costume?"

He looked a bit embarrassed. "I was getting too many weird looks, to be honest. Kasnians see 'cowboy' and all they've got in mind is John Wayne or George Bush, neither of which goes over too well here I guess. Diric suggested it, even provided the clothes. I thought, the hell with it. When in Rome and so on."

"Well I approve," stated Mari. She stood at last, the heels putting her almost at eye level with Vigilante. "What about Wally?"

Greg gave one of his endearing 'aw shucks' shrugs. "Who knows. Way he was eyein' the queen on the way over, he's probably tryin' to sweet talk the poor thing into a private tour or somethin'."

Mari chuckled. "I can't blame him, she is beautiful."

"Yeah," said Greg noncommittally. Mari's eyes narrowed at the lack of enthusiasm.

"You don't think so?"

He shrugged again. "Oh, she's a sight for sure, just not my type is all."

Vixen cocked her head, curious. "Well, what is your type then?"

Greg opened his mouth to speak, but then Wally appeared in the room, the only sign that he hadn't been there all along the still-swinging door and the slight breeze that his entrance had created. "Hey you guys," he said cheerfully.

"Hey," said Mari, quickly hiding her disappointment at not being able to hear Greg's answer. "I like the outfit."

"Really?" Wally leaned into range of the dresser mirror to get another look at himself. He was in civilian clothes as well, his red hair stylishly gelled up and a pair of designer glasses replacing his mask. He'd shaved, but left a trim goatee behind. He wore a beige button-up under a dark brown leather jacket, and as a package was completely unrecognizable as either the Flash or Wally West.

"You all look wonderful," said a voice from the doorway. The trio turned to find Diric standing there, hands clasped behind his back and a smile on his face. His pale gray eyes twinkled with amusement. "Shall we go then? I have a feeling tonight's going to be more exciting than you all can imagine."

* * *

**Author's Not**e: Chapter 2, ladies and gentlemen. No beta, again, so all goofs and whatnot are mine. I also promise that future chapters will focus more on our beloved Leaguers, there was just some important backstory I wanted to establish, especially given that this fic is rather OC-heavy. Anyway, hope you liked and really hope you'll take the time to review.

Thanks for reading!

-C


	3. Chapter 3

Rather than arrive downtown in the royal limousine, Mari, Greg, Wally, and Audrey were dropped off in nondescript yellow taxi van, one of several that Audrey kept on hand for traveling under the radar. Diric had accompanied them in the vehicle, but then melted away into the shadows. He and several other members of Audrey's security detail would be present everywhere the group went. Quietly surveilling and ready to prevent any trouble that should arise. Not that any was expected, Audrey was quick to assure them.

The Eagle Plaza, roughly translated, was a testament to Kasnia's burgeoning Western identity. Located near the center of the capital city, it was a dazzling sight in the night sky. Lights from clubs, bars and restaurants on every side illuminated the plaza itself, and nighttime vendors and street performers plied their trade within the busy square.

For Mari, the anonymity was almost unsettling. Here she was, a worldwide celebrity in her own right next to a group that include, among others, the queen of Kasnia herself. Yet no one even batted an eye. She knew that some of Audrey's secret service were mixed into the crowds, keeping a vigilant watch over the group. Still, the freedom was rather surprising.

Audrey smiled at them over her shoulder as she pulled a few bills from her purse and gave them to a man selling fried pastries. His eyes widened when he realized who she was, and he said something in the native language that Mari didn't catch.

"Zhankyu," said Audrey, beaming as he handed her four of the small paper cups. She turned to the rest of the group, handing them out with the practiced ease of a gala hostess. "Try them, they're delicious."

"Okay," said Wally, flicking the ball of dough into his mouth in one quick blur of motion. Just as soon, he'd swallowed it. "Tasty."

Mari glanced at Greg, who just happened to have glanced at her at the same instance. His look of confusion mirrored hers, so she just shrugged and at the treat too. Grudgingly, he followed suit.

Audrey turned back to them, an eyebrow raised. "What do you think?"

"Delicious," said Mari. "What's it called?"

"_Yeshni_," said Audrey. "Well, this is a deep-fried commercial variation, but in essence, these little things have existed in tribal Kasnia for centuries.

"Fascinating," commented Wally as they passed under a large, ornate stone arch. "Yeshneh"

"_Yeshni_," corrected Audrey, smiling a bit at his mangled pronunciation.

"Yesh. . ." Wally sighed. "How's it spelled?"

Audrey bit her lip to keep from smiling anymore. "Never mind," she said breezily. "The foreign languages can often be a bit overwhelming for the sensitive American palate."

"Hey," protested Wally in mock outrage. "It's not my fault that you guys name your desserts after. . . s_neezes_."

"We do not! _Yeshni_ is-"

"Gesundheit," he interjected quickly.

Audrey puzzled over this for a few brief moments before realization dawned. This time, she didn't even bother trying to stop the small giggle. "You're impossible," she sighed, shaking her head.

Behind them, Wally's reply was lost on Greg and Mari. The latter's face was quite unreadable, but Mari had known him long enough to recognize the small twitch in his jaw.

She lightly nudged him with her elbow. "Everything okay, cowboy?"

"Of course," he said automatically.

Mari nodded. "Okay, let's try the non-bullshit version of that conversation. Here goes: Is everything okay, cowboy?"

"Mmm, well in that case, no."

"Go on."

He pursed his lips. "Alright. I feel ridiculous right now, and that this a huge waste of Justice League time as well as my own."

Mari's eyes turned into saucers. Luckily, they were far enough behind Wally and Audrey that the queen hadn't heard that. "Vig!" she scolded.

"You wanted to know. Part of me thinks that we've got no business bein here, Mari."

She started at this, giving him a sharp look. "Wait, what? Why?"

"Because, once the League starts goin into countries and taking sides in political conflicts. . .I think we lose sight of our limits. And we lose a lot of the trust that we've been trying to regain since Cadmus."

Mari frowned. "It's not exactly a political debate Greg. The K'Naedi are terrorists, pure and simple. We're just here to keep them destabilizing the legitimate government-".

"Legitimate how? Who elected her?"

"C'mon Vig, you know it's not America for chrissakes. Monarchial rule is a part of their culture. And besides, Audrey's trying to change all that." Mari gestured around them. "Regardless, we're just here to protect her, not from political opposition but from the kind of cowardly insurgents that would try to assassinate her and kill indiscriminately to do so."

Greg arched an eyebrow. "You like her," he said amused.

"Maybe I do," she said defensively. "Sure she can be a little stuck up, but Lord knows Audrey's got nerves of steel. And she cares about her people. _All_ of her people."

The cowboy chuckled. "You know, despite myself I agree with you," he said finally. "She seems like a good ruler. But that doesn't mean she should be using us to boost her credit with the people. Or tryin' to manipulate us."

They passed a busy group of college students, all with lit cigarettes and a collective floating haze of carcinogenic tobacco smoke. None of them recognized the queen or the League, as evidenced by the snooty looks they threw at the four.

Audrey turned back to make a face, at which Greg and Mari both laughed. "The one thing I miss about the damn Soviets," she deadpanned. "Cigarettes costing as much as a pair of shoes. No one, _especially_ the students, could afford them."

Mari shot Greg a pointed look, which he studiously ignored. "I'll quit soon," he muttered to no one in particular.

He was spared a smart comeback from Mari when Audrey suddenly announced, "We're here!"

Bright neon lighting and a chic, modern architecture let the place stand out from the buildings around it. Still, Greg couldn't help whispering to Mari as they walked in, "Huge waste of time."

She mock-punched his jaw shut. "Shut up and enjoy the night, cowboy."

* * *

**Elsewhere**

There five of them. Three men, two women. They were not the best that the K'Naedi had to offer but they were far from the worst. Under their collective belts were a dozen assassinations, twice as many kidnappings, and assorted demolitions and sabotage work.

None of them had ever met a superhero.

"No way she got Viktor's approval for this," said the most senior member of the squad, a short and compact man named Miko. He was the only one of them standing directly under the dim light in the small warehouse space. As he talked, his fingers expertly assembled the last of several improvised explosive devices that they would need for the mission.

Nadia, an olive-skinned beauty with red and gold hair looked up from where she was methodically sharpening her knives. "You think?" she said, checking around to gauge the rest of the group's reaction.

Katya and Konrad, the Aryan-featured twins, both shrugged. "Who cares?" said Katya dismissively. "If Viktor didn't order this hit, then he should have. The outsiders have no business interjecting themselves into Kasnian affairs. The arrogance- as if ridiculous costumes and so-called superpowers could silence us!" She slid the last component of her sniper rifle into its housing, locking it into place with an ominous double click. The weapon looked monstrous next to her, five feet in length with a deployable bipod and thermal night scope. Sniper and spotter, the brother-sister team would be the advance front of the night's mission.

The last member of the group, Odom, was just a few days past his eighteenth birthday. He had never killed, and had no particular interest in it. However, he was brilliant in a way that few operatives are ever brilliant. He could calculate odds, outcomes, probabilities, and trajectories like a computer. _Better _than a computer. Talin had tasked him with formulating tonight's plan, and in the space of a few hours he had done just that. With limited intelligence on the three Leaguers, it was a bit difficult to make a foolproof plan of action. But Odom had come close.

He smiled to himself. If all went well, Queen Audrey's superpowered lapdogs would never see the light of day.

* * *

**Casablancas**

"This place is called Casablancas," explained Audrey as she ushered the trio into a trendy-looking restaurant whose booming synth-pop could be heard every time the doors opened. Vixen had been there before, though she could tell the two males in the group were a little fazed by the. . .ambience.

The label of restaurant applied well enough, though it was more of a club that happened to serve food. It was dimly lit over the tables, and further past those were a bar and dance floor that clearly served as the establishment's main attraction. The flashing lights, heavy bass, and throngs of dancing partygoers made Wally's birthday bash for John look like a poor man's bar mitzvah.

Thinking of John brought back a pang of sadness for Mari, so she squelched the thought as best she could, focusing on the here and now. Uncharacteristically, she felt old in this place. Now the patrons were mostly college-aged, the guys walking with the overinflated swagger endemic to campuses everywhere, while the girls flaunted fashions far too gaudy and potent to be sophisticated. Like the queen used to be, back in her wild days, she realized.

Audrey was somehow able to lift her voice above the background noise without visible effort, even as she wordlessly motioned a waiter for drinks. "This used to be one of my favorite hot spots," she told them. "I and whichever friends being a princess had made me that week would come here every Friday, like clockwork." She said this so simply it was hard to catch the sorrowful undertone in her words. "For the paparazzi, it was almost too easy. Just sit right here where we are, and take pictures of the inebriated princess in the kinds of outrageous situations good vodka and bad judgment tend to produce. My father used to be so furious."

No one said anything as she paused, waiting for her to continue. She might have, but at that moment the waiter returned carrying a platter with four tall glasses of amber –colored liquid. The cavalier way the server set down their drinks indicated that he had no idea who they were. Which was fine with Mari. Blending in was nice for a change.

Audrey raised her glass. "Here's to you," she said, addressing Mari, Greg, and Wally. "We have a lot of work to do, but tonight. . .I just want to show you that there is more to my country than car bombs and assassinations."

Wally clinked her glass. "Likin it so far," he said. "To us."

"To us," Mari said, joining in the toast. After a sharp jab from her elbow, Greg even muttered a grudging 'to us'.

* * *

They sipped their drinks completely unaware of Nadia, the advance member of the K'Naedi assassination squad. She'd picked up their trail just before they'd entered Casablancas, and was casually surveilling them from inside the place.

She wasn't quite dressed for the nightlife, but her looks made up for it. By affecting a frigid, intimidating demeanor, she was able to keep those same looks from turning into a liability. There were a lot of guys giving her the once-over, but after seeing the discouraging expression on her face they quickly found other targets. And Nadia was able to focus in on hers.

She was tempted to try and make all the kills right here, but just as soon dismissed the thought. She'd counted four other patrons who were almost certainly members of the queen's secret protective detail. Getting through them and to the League would take way too long, and she didn't have the ordnance for it. So she just reported, for now.

"They're what?" Odom was saying into her earpiece, his voice one of disbelief.

"Having drinks," Nadia answered curtly. "That's it. They look like every other group in here, just laughing and drinking and having fun, from the looks of it."

Odom took a moment to chew this over. "Our contact said they would be venturing into the district, but I'm still surprised they'd idle their time like that."

"It just makes our job easier," Nadia pointed out.

"Careful," warned Odom. "When it comes to this bunch things are never easy. Remember, the one they call The Flash has been clocked at speeds exceeding Mach 1, he's got reflexes out of this world. The woman's taken down whole buildings before, with her totemic powers. And while the cowboy may not have powers-"

"Yes, I read the briefings too," snapped an impatient Nadia. "Powers or no powers, they're not bulletproof. They'll die without even knowing what killed them."

Odom chuckled. "Keep me informed of any alterations," he said. "Katya and Konrad are setting up in the Old Cathedral, about .25 kilometers from your position. We'll get them soon after coming out of the club. The speedster first, then woman. If the cowboy is any kind of halfway decent operative, he'll already be going evasive by that point, which is where you come in, a deadly surprise he'll never see coming. You'll escape in the chaos of course, and that will be that.

Nadia reached down to her belt buckle, her fingers running over the familiar contours. The buckle was slightly to large to be fashionable, but that was hardly her first concern. The metal façade was just enough to hide the storage slots for razor sharp throwing blades. She had two longer knives hidden in the soles of her boots, and a wickedly curved miniblade disguised within the elaborate clasp that held back her hair.

Her blades were singing to her. They wanted blood.

_Soon. _

_

* * *

_

The drinks were a house special, made with that especially lethal combination of alcohol and mixer that allows for rapid and unexpected inebriation. Mari knew she wasn't quite at that point, but the third round was starting to register, so she waved off any more.

"Are you sure?" asked Audrey, her Easter European accent even more pronounced under the mild influence of alcohol.

Mari nodded. "Big day ahead of us and all that. I'm fine as is. Besides," she joked, "Wally here turns into a complete man-whore after one too many."

Wally shot her a rude look. "That is not true," he protested, turning to Audrey. "I have been completely mischaracterized, your majesty."

The queen seemed slightly amused. "Bit of a playboy are you, Mr. West?"

Wally blinked. Maybe it was the drinks, but something about her Bond girl voice and sly smile rendered him speechless. The surge of attraction was so powerful that he felt himself blushing, which only served to bring him more attention from the rest of the group and Audrey in particular.

Having gotten him into such a predicament, Mari took pity and rescued him by changing the subject. "Hey cowboy, wanna dance?" she suddenly asked Greg.

Vigilante stiffened. "Um. . ."

"C'mon Vig, let's see your moves." She was standing now, tugging gently on his arm. "That's you too," she added, addressing Audrey and Wally.

Audrey beamed back at her. "It's been far too long," she said wistfully. "I suppose it couldn't hurt to see if. . .how do you Americans say. . .'I've still got it'?" She glanced meaningfully at Wally, who even managed not to blush this time.

Greg was shaking his head at Mari though. "Nuh-uh. I'm afraid I absolutely do not under any circumstances-"

"Vig, get off your ass and have some fun, dammit," Mari cut in. It was a tone of voice that brooked no argument and that, combined with the booming bass and three glasses of house specials had Greg somehow standing up and moving with the rest of the group toward the dance floor. The music was foreign to him, Rhythmic noise. And the fist-pumping, gyrating bodies out on the dance floor looked like something out of a nightmare.

_What the hell_, he thought. After all, leading him by the hand was one very fetching silver lining. . .

* * *

**Watchtower **

John wasn't surprised that Mari had turned off her cell phone and communicator, but he was still annoyed. The uncertainty about their relationship irked him, as did the fact that Mari had made no effort to even contact him since arriving in Kasnia. He'd had to hear about their reception from the news, for heaven's sake.

Irritably, he thumbed his cell phone shut and shoved his phone into his pockets. What he really needed was to get out of the Watchtower. Go back planetside and breathe fresh, non-recycled air for a change. In fact, he was headed to the Beaming Dock when he ran into Shayera, face flushed and hair damp from what must have been a rigorous workout.

"John!" she exclaimed, surprised. "Hey, um. . ." She was suddenly and self-consciously aware of how she must look, all sweaty and winded. She noticed that John, in contrast, could have stepped out of a catalogue in his leather jacket, dark jeans and Italian shoes. She blinked. "What's with the civvies?"

He shrugged. "After all that's been goin on, think I need to head planetside for a little bit. Outer space gets to you after awhile."

"Tell me about it," muttered Hawkgirl in agreement. The constriction of the Watchtower affected her more acutely than most, given her species' natural penchant for flight and open air. As a soldier, she had been trained to control that instinctive desire during space operations. Still, a girl needed to stretch her wings every once in a while. She cocked her head to the side. " So how's Mari doing? You guys kiss and make up yet?"

The corner of his mouth twitched in a way that Shayera took as a definite 'no'. She felt another pang of guilt at the way her entire day seemed to brighten just hearing that. On the other hand, she'd never thought John and Mari made a good couple in the first place. Maybe John was coming to see that as well.

The tall Marine let out a small sigh. "Never claimed to understand women, and being up here I'm just driving myself crazy thinking about it anyway. Slow as things are, I'm probably more use down there than up here anyway. Stop a mugging or two," he joked.

Shayera looked him in the eyes. "It doesn't have to be that way you know," she said. "Maybe. . ."

John met her gaze. "Maybe what?"

"Maybe all the time and emotional energy you're investing in whatever you have with Mari would be better spent elsewhere." Her chin came up. "I mean, honestly John, do you know, in your heart, that she's the one for you?"

He took a moment to respond. "I thought I knew that about someone once," he said, completely serious now.

"Maybe you were right, 'once'," Shayera pressed. When she got no response, she added, "don't you believe in second chances, John?"

His face registered a dozen emotions before he got back in check, schooling all the expressiveness from his features. "I don't Shayera," he said finally, taking a step away and toward the Beam Transporters. "I'll see you soon, okay."

She watched him walk away, willing herself not to cry. The emotional havoc that conversation had wreaked was not insignificant. But still. This. . .this was progress. He might not have been able to voice it but John Stewart knew just as well as she did that they belonged together. Even more than she did, considering what he'd seen in the future. Soon, she told herself, he would realize that and put an end to the silly little triangle that popped up between him, Mari, and Shayera.

_Soon. _

* * *

**Casablancas**_  
_

"We are outclassed, my man," Wally commented appreciatively. He was addressing Greg but one would hardly be able to tell the way his eyes were glued to Audrey on the dance floor. The cowboy couldn't fault him either- Mari was pure sensuality and power, even when dancing to what passed for music over here. The flickering lights seemed to capture her in a million flashing snapshots, one after the other. He was hypnotized.

The song ended and Wally clapped for the girls, even throwing in a whistle for good measure. Audrey fixed him with a demure smile. Without the music though, she felt a little silly. She was a queen now after all.

What came next over the speakers was such a radical change that Mari had to question if she was hearing things. Slow, rhythmic guitar and smoky female vocals. It would have caused a riot in most American clubs, but here in Kasnia the abrupt switch was met with no resistance at all. Couples began forming on the dance floor, slow dancing to the song.

Wally cocked a head to the side. "American music. This sounds familiar. . ."

"Norah Jones," supplied Mari. It's called 'Come Away With Me'."

Greg looked impressed. "I actually don't hate it," he said, smiling down at Mari.

"Glad you think so, cowboy." She stepped into his personal space like it didn't even exist. "How about givin' a gal a dance?"

He defensively put a hand to the back of his neck. "Well ah, can't say I dance too well-"

"Nonsense," admonished Mari. "Here, just put your hands on my waist. . ." She encircled his wrists with her own hands, bringing his around her back. "And I put my arms around your neck, like so. . ." She did so, bringing them even closer together. "And now we just. . . sway."

Through a suddenly dry throat, Greg somehow managed to ask, "That's it?"

"That's it cowboy." She rested her head on his chest. "See, it's not that bad."

Understatement of the year. His mind seemed to have crashed and burned, no recovery possible. God, she was beautiful. And the music wasn't helping things much. The slow, seductive rhythm made him want to bring her even closer as they danced.

_Get ahold of yourself, Vig_, he mentally commanded himself, forcing his gaze out around the dance floor. Somehow Wally and Audrey had wound up dancing, he noticed with some amusement. Maybe he'd underestimated Wally's charm when it came to the queen. Outside of the cameras and spotlight, she seemed to be enjoying the speedster's company somewhat.

One guy in particular didn't seem to appreciate it though. He had no partner and was instead swaying awkwardly back and forth, his gaze focused on Wally and Audrey. At first Greg thought it was jealousy, but then he took in the man's posture and build. Special Forces, no doubt. One of queen's Royal Guard. He'd almost forgotten that they were in here with them, disguised and keeping a watchful eye on the regent of Kasnia.

"So how's John?" he blurted out. It was midway through the song and Mari froze like she'd just has a tray of ice cubes poured down her collar. Greg immediately regretted asking. Where the hell had that question even come from?

Mari pulled back a bit, eyeing him oddly. "Why do you ask?"

Greg was at a loss for words. Upon reflection he knew exactly why he'd asked. The question had been burning through his mind ever since they'd arrived, and quite a bit before that as well. Add to that the fact that Mari hadn't brought John in the first place, or even mentioned him once. . .

"I suppose you heard about our fight," she said flatly.

"Actually, I hadn't."

"Oh." She was silent for a moment. "Well, I don't think I want to talk about that anyway. If that's okay. . ."

"No, yeah totally," he said quickly. _Nice going Vig._ In an effort to change the subject he gestured over in Wally and Audrey's direction. "Think she likes him?" he deadpanned.

Mari chuckled, clearly relieved that he hadn't pressed her further on the matter. "Yeah, maybe," she said. "On the other hand, it's definitely to her advantage to keep us here. At the end of the day, she's going to do what she thinks is best for Kasnia. If flirting with Wally is the fastest means to that end, I can't say I'd put it past her."

Greg thought about this. "Kinda cynical for you, isn't it Mari?" She seemed about to respond when the song drew to an end and Audrey, Wally in tow, popped up next to the two.

"You two enjoy the song?" asked Audrey, a suggestive arch in her brow. Mari felt her cheeks warm, even as she and Vigilante separated.

"Actually I did," Greg replied. "And you?"

Audrey grinned. "My love affair with American music goes back a long time."

Mari checked her watch. "How much longer do you want to stay?" she asked the queen.

"All night long, if it were up to me," Audrey said. "However, my Royal Guard grows more antsy by the minute. They think it's a security nightmare in here. Considering the small fact that they're probably right, I was thinking we could head back toward the palace and get some McDonalds."

Wally seemed surprised. "Wait, they have _McDonalds_ here?"

"Of course." The queen turned back to the rest of the group. "Let's get our coats and meet by the back exit."

* * *

"They're getting ready to leave," Nadia reported. "I think her security is getting concerned."

"As they well should be," mused Odom. "How many Royal Guardsmen?"

"Four, that I've been able to make. They're competent, but not world class. Shouldn't be a problem."

"Very well. And the tracker, have you planted it?"

Nadia chuckled. "Not yet, it'll be child's play."

"Just make sure you don't underestimate them," cautioned Odom.

"I won't." Nadia flicked a small catch on her bracelet, releasing an even smaller homing beacon with a round, adhesive fixative. "Tell the twins to keep their eyes sharp, I think our targets are about to leave."

* * *

Wally felt the unmistakably feminine hand on his arm and turned, expecting Queen Audrey. Instead, there stood a beautiful woman, skin the color of caramel and vivacious dark hair, accented with gold. She looked up at him with honey-amber eyes and said something in language Wally had never even heard before.

He gave an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I don't understand-"

"Ah," said the woman. "American, yes?"

"Yeah." Wally looked behind him, where the rest of the group was eyeing him speculatively. He laughed nervously and shrugged. "Tourist."

The woman's eyes lowered suggestively. "Well, hello tourist. My name is Nadia. Tell me, are they _all_ so cute as this in America?" Her voice was an lightly accented purr, throaty and feminine.

"Oh. Um.. .heh. Well. . ."

Audrey suddenly materialized at his side, her expression cool. "I think it's about time for us to get going," she said, ignoring the woman.

Nadia didn't seem at all put off. "I apologize," she said to Audrey. "I did not know he was taken." She gave a polite nod backed away into the crowd.

Wally blinked. "I didn't know I was taken either-"

"Oh shut up," said Audrey. "I just came by to let you know we were leaving. That is all."

Wally smirked as she did an about face, leading him toward the others. "Right."

* * *

Nadia watched them leave, a smile of cold amusement on her lips. The queen had actually looked a bit jealous. How rich! Queen Audrey's romantic exploits had been rather low profile ever since taking the crown. The idea of her with a superhero would've made Nadia laugh if she wasn't so intent on killing the two of them.

She keyed her communicator to the twins' frequency. "Look sharp, they're coming out of the east exit in a moderate-sized group. You already have dominant color patterns for each target. The only one that really might be a problem is the runner, but Odom's plan will take him out of play easily."

"It won't be necessary," said Konrad."He's no Superman. A speeding bullet should do just fine."

* * *

Vigilante's Black Ops days were far behind him, but commando training is one of those things that time can never completely erase. A more sedentary lifestyle might have dulled his skills, but he'd been using them more in the League than he ever did working for the government. They were a large part of the reason he'd risen so quickly in the League at all.

This training could turn men- and women- into killing machines. It could familiarize them with entire libraries of weapons, teaching them to strip and reassemble guns. And shoot them. Without missing. How to incapacitate an enemy quickly and permanently with anything down to and including bare hands. How to conduct surveillance. How to stay alive.

Ironically, it was those very skills that got the good operatives killed by the great ones. Intense conditioning being what it is, the effects are like a red flare for anyone else similarly trained. They recognize fellow soldiers by the way they move and interact with the environment. It is almost literally equivalent to walking around with a neon sign reading: I'm Black Ops!

The girl that had been talking to Flash was on the more talented side of good. But she wasn't great- not yet. She'd eliminated most of the tells, carefully disguising the way she was constantly checking exits and chokepoints behind her 'normal' façade. She would have even escaped Vigilante's notice if it weren't for the way she'd approached Flash. It just didn't feel right. All the guys in this club and she'd singled Wally out in particular, ostensibly without knowing his true identity. She'd seen him dancing with Audrey and approached anyway, only to be (supposedly) turned back by little more than a glare from Audrey?

No, it was too calculated. And once Vigilante started to really look at her, there were other signs as well. She was clearly talking to someone, for instance. Well-disguised, but whatever she kept adjusting under her hair was either the world's most uncomfortable earring, or an earpiece.

What he didn't know was what it meant. Was she part of Audrey's security team? If so, then why stage entire charade with Wally at all? No, his judgment told him that her affiliations lay elsewhere.

"Vig, you comin?" He could feel Mari's light grasp on his arm, tugging him toward the exit.

"Yeah," he said distractedly. "Sorry."

Mari's gaze followed his, settling on Nadia who was now sitting at the bar sipping on a drink. "She is beautiful," she said neutrally.

"Yeah, but that's not what I'm focused on. Something's. . . wrong about her," said Greg. "It's hard to explain but. . ." She was giving him the kind of look often reserved for UFO spotters. He shrugged helplessly. "Never mind, let's just go."

Mari chuckled. "Whatever you say, cowboy."

They joined up with the Wally and Audrey near the exit, filing briskly out into the night. It was windy, and a lot colder than it had been earlier. But Greg didn't think that was the only reason for the chill that suddenly crept down his spine.

Then he felt it. Just a small, concentrated whiff of misplaced air. Distinctive and unmistakable.

A silenced sniper round.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

So I really like this story, something about it kept pulling at me even throughout grad school apps and all those entail. Certainly these aren't the most popular characters in the DCAU fandom, but that's all the more license I have as an author to tell their stories (if you will).

Anywho, reviews make me smile and I really like 'em so you should leave some! Other than that,

Ciao!

-C


	4. Chapter 4

Instinctively, Greg shoved Mari away as forcefully as possible, sending her toppling into a rack of mopeds. At the same time he was yelling to Audrey and Wally, "Down! Sniper!" Time seemed to move in slow motion. The ground where Mari had just stood was ruptured, stitched with sniper rounds. He heard someone back inside cry out, already knowing that a round had made it through the open exit door. He whirled back to see Nadia advancing, her hand in her clutch purse and her eyes as cold as glaciers. That was when he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt. Whatever was going on, she was in on it.

Pandemonium had erupted. People were screaming and running every which way. Mari, to her credit, wasn't wasting time fretting over being shoved into a bunch of motor scooters. She'd absorbed the situation pretty quickly and was now using those same vehicles as a sort of makeshift cover.

Flash too had sprung into action, whisking the Queen back inside and shielding her body with his own. The secret bodyguards were now in full protection duty mode, guns drawn and alert.

Vig tapped Wally on the shoulder. "You take the queen, you'll be faster than anyone here, and can probably avoid gettin' hit by the damn sniper." Even as he was talking his eyes were searching for Nadia. _There, in the corner_. Disappearing out the front entrance. "Go back the way you came," he had to yell over the din. "I've gotta catch up with somebody." And with that he was sprinting off after Nadia.

Flash scooped up the diminutive queen in his arms. "Shall we?"

"Please," was all she said. "Hurry."

Mari listened to this brief exchange, plotting her next move. Who knew what the hell Vig had gone off to do, but his suspicions about that Nadia woman seemed a lot easier to believe now. With Flash seeing to the princess, that left her to take care of the sniper.

As if on cue, a round slammed into the metal railing mere inches from her head, pinging off into oblivion. She instinctively darted to the left, trying to pinpoint exactly where the bastard was. So many buildings and windows. . .

She brushed her totem._ Hawk eyes_. Her vision sharpened by a factor of five, like zooming in with a telescope. The sniper wasn't hard to spot at all now, perched on the roof of one of the taller edifices. He adjusted his scope a fraction of inch. Toward her.

_Cricket._ She leaped out of the way in time to avoid a one-bullet lobotomy. Her next jump took her approximately one city block closer. The next one and she'd halved the distance between herself and the sniper. Rounds were whizzing past her everywhere, but the best marksman in the world couldn't be expected to hit a target moving that fast and erratically.

Up on the roof, Konrad tossed the sniper rifle to the side and retrieved a shotgun from his duffel bag. "Shit, she's fast," he muttered to his sister who was similarly arming herself. Don't know how she saw us but she'll be up here real-"

The _ratatatat_ of his Katya's submachine gun drowned out whatever he'd been about to say. She was shooting over his shoulder, fear in her eyes. He whirled around, just as the one they called Vixen landed on the rooftop with them.

He pumped a round in and fired. Point blank, for all intents and purposes. The blast caught Vixen in the stomach and forced her to take a step back.

She coughed. "Nice try. Armadillo armor."

He fired again, but this time she was prepared, leaping back up into the sky and landing gently behind him. He started to bring the shotgun around to bear but she caught the barrel in her hand and squeezed, buckling the metal with a horrible screeching noise.

Stupidly, he tried to hit her. She batted his fist away, shattering delicate bones in the process. Then she head butted him, breaking his nose and sending him into blissful unconsciousness.

Mari craned her neck to see the girl, shaking with fear. She wasn't moved. "Mind telling me why you tried to kill us?" she asked.

The girl expression steeled into one of hate. "We will always fight outsiders who meddle in Kasnian affairs."

"Oh?" Mari arched an eyebrow. "And who is 'we'?"

"The K'Naedi!" screamed the girl whipping a hand out from behind her back and hurtling a compact black sphere straight toward Mari.

_Ah, grenade_, she thought ruefully.

The explosion was devastating. Even with her totemic armor activated, Mari was hit with enough force to send her flying right over the rooftop edge and to the ground below.

* * *

Nadia had no idea how Vigilante had spotted her but she'd be damned if she let herself get apprehended. Clearly a covert assassination was now out of the question so the best thing for now was to get as far away as humanly possible. Maybe he'd take the bait and she could finish him off then.

The mass of people moving in the same direction was an advantage of sorts. Mixed in the throng of people, there was no way Vigilante would be able to effectively pursue her. Still, as soon as she was out the front door she banked toward the nearest alley. Time to put as much distance as possible between herself and-

"Hey, stop right there!" barked a voice from behind her. "On the order of the Royal Guard, halt immediately!"

She froze, trying to figure out how to play this one. It wasn't Vigilante, it was a member of Queen Audrey's protective detail. She'd spotted him awkwardly dancing back at the dance floor, but now he was all business, his badge prominently displayed for her benefit. He was also more than likely armed.

She affected an appropriate demeanor. Scared, confused, damsel in distress. "I'm-I'm sorry," she stammered. "I was just trying to get away as quickly as possible. People were saying there was a shooter, and-"

The man's expression softened. "Of course. I understand ma'am. Rest assured that the situation is being taken care of. Now if I could just get a statement and your contact information, we may need to follow up-"

She didn't even hear the rest of what he said. Vigilante had just burst out into the street, and he wasn't long in spotting her.

Nadia thought frantically. "I'm sorry, now isn't the best time," she said hurriedly, backing away.

The Guardsman grabbed her arm. "Ma'am, I really need-"

She killed him on the spot. Dealing with a bloody Kasnian soldier was the last thing she needed right now. So in a deadly blur of motion she brought one of her razor sharp blades across his throat, severing trachea and carotid in one single stroke.

She was out of the way before even the spray of arterial blood could reach her, sprinting down the cobblestone walkway with the speed and grace of an Olympian.

"No way," breathed Vigilante, briefly wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him. He'd seen a lot of messed up things, but the casual way in which this Nadia woman had executed Audrey's guardsman stopped even him in his tracks.

But not for long. Checking for any kind of vitals was a waste of time- the poor guy didn't have all that much of a throat left. And his heart was busy pumping the last of his blood out into the street. Any second now law enforcement or one of the frightened civilians-

A shrill scream pierced the air. Something unintelligible in a language he didn't understand. Kasnian for 'Oh my God there's a dead bleeding body on the ground!' most likely.

The choice between staying and going wasn't even a choice really. Nothing more he could do for the guardsman, and staying around to explain what the hell had just happened without Audrey there would be a nightmare. Newly focused, he sprinted off and around yet another corner, following Nadia's movements as he'd last seen them. She was fast, but his lean runner's frame and long legs gave him an advantage in this instance. It was barely thirty seconds before he caught the next glimpse of her, scampering up on top of a municipal dumpster, then vertically running up one brick wall three steps and pushing off, leaping across the alleyway to an opposite windowsill. It was impressive as hell, and Vigilante didn't hesitate to follow her up only because he knew if he did, he'd talk himself out of it.

Like a monkey, Nadia shimmied across the adjacent window ledges until she reached the upper half of a now defunct fire escape. In yet another demonstration of athletic prowess, she pushed herself a good three feet up, grabbing onto a rusted metal rung, which let out shrieking groan of protest.

It would have been enough to lose Vigilante completely, if it weren't for the fact that what remained of the fire escape was in pretty bad condition as well. As soon as Nadia's full weight was on it, the iron brackets, pulled away from their brick housing and scythed down toward the ground, leaving the K'Naedi woman dangling a good fifteen feet over the cobblestone.

"Don't do it," called out Vigilante.

She did, letting go and dropping the rest of the way. Her landing was almost flawless, a quick somersault absorbing most of the impact. Still, she was clearly a bit winded, and had completely lost her distance advantage.

Vigilante dropped himself, pushing off from the wall so he'd land at a more hospitable lateral angle. Nadia hadn't moved, wisely deciding to take a stand here rather than keep running.

She held a knife, blade razor sharp and a good six inches long. Greg had no weapon whatsoever, just a height and reach advantage.

She expertly twirled the weapon in her right hand, and then tossed it back to her left, which caught it flawlessly. Not a novice in any sense of the word. This encounter might just leave him with a few more scars to add to his collection. If he was lucky.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," he said. They were only about twenty feet away from each other now, a close enough distance for his voice to carry.

Nadia cocked her head to the side. "Do what?"

"Kill that man." Vig stepped closer. "You could have gotten away without slitting his throat."

The other woman laughed. "You're right, of course. That was just the fun part."

"He was innocent."

Her eyes flashed. "None of them are innocent."

"_You_ certainly aren't." Vigilante stepped closer, his expression cold. "You're with whoever tried to kill us, aren't you?"

"Tried?" This seemed to amuse her even more. "No, you see, 'tried' would imply that we haven't succeeded. Do you honestly think I had any intention of escaping you? I just wanted to draw you further into the city, where I could kill you without all the hassle of guardsman and witnesses."

Vig wrapped his jacket around one arm, just like his close quarters combat instructor had taught him all those years ago. "Darlin, you're good. I'll grant you that. But you're not that good."

She snarled, rushing at him from the left with the knife held low. The first slash was low toward his midsection, a vicious swipe that would have practically disemboweled him had he not leapt backward just in time. She went for another pass, but he batted the blade aside with the jacket wrapped around his arm and hit her with an open palm strike to the side of the face.

Her reaction was just what he expected. With an infuriated scream she came at him again, technique thrown to the wayside. She jabbed a knifehand toward his throat, which he blocked with his forearm. Quick, but not quick enough to block the knee strike aimed at his kidney. The blow caught Vigilante off guard, doubling him over. She drove the knife down toward his skull, aiming for the nerve cluster behind the ear.

A near miss. Vigilante craned his head just in time to avoid the paralyzing strike. The edge of the blade glanced off his skull instead, the pain cutting through all the fog in his mind. _Time to end this._

She swung wildly, the deadly blade slicing through clean air as Vigilante ducked and evaded for all he was worth. She went for a leaping jab that he had no hope of escaping, so he caught the blade on his jacket yet again. This time the cold steel went right through, breaking the skin of his forearm. Without the protection it would have kept going further still through bone and blood vessels.

Switching tactics, Nadia sent a vicious roundhouse into his ribs, which he absorbed, trapping her leg between his torso and arm. After seeing her kill Audrey's Guardsman in cold blood, he didn't even hesitate in delivering his final blow. The palm strike caught her kneecap at a side angle, nudging the socket right out place and effectively crippling her for the time being.

Nadia let out a shriek of pain. Vigilante let go of her ruined leg and casually kicked her good one out from underneath her. She toppled to the ground in a mangled mess, cursing and screaming in her native language.

Her hand still held the knife, so Vigilante, slowly dug the toe of his shoe into a pressure point on her wrist, until she had no choice but to let go of the knife. He kicked it away.

"Rot in hell!" she spat, writhing in pain and anger.

Vigilante ignored the curse, kneeling down beside her. "You know," he said, "Everythin' in me rebels at the idea of hittin'a lady."

No response. She was clearly scrambling to think of a way out of her predicament. Knowing she was wily enough to have a chance of succeeding, Greg reached for the juncture of neck and torso, found the 'sweet spot' as he'd learned it, and applied forceful, contained pressure. Her body stiffened, then relaxed into unconsciousness.

He heard what in the post-adrenaline phase he was experiencing sounded like applause. Rather, it was the sound of dozens of booted footfalls. Royal guardsmen and soldiers, fully armed, rushing down the alley.

"Relax, gentlemen." The voice was unmistakably Diric's. Easing his way through the newly assembled soldiers, he came to stand in front Vigilante. He outstretched a hand, with the Leaguer gladly took, helping him up to his feet.

"What is the term you Americans use?" he asked. "FUBAR?"

Despite the situation, Greg chuckled. "Somethin' like that."

Diric gestured toward the woman's unconscious form. "Do you know who this is?"

"Well back at the bar she introduced herself as Nadia. Definitely not your regular party girl though, this one was a stone cold professional."

"We call her the Tigress. Wanted in seven different countries for various assassinations and acts of terrorism. She is a mercenary, but with strong roots back to K'Naedi and the mountains where she was born. To think she was in the same room as the Queen. . ."

"Speakin of which," Greg cut in. "Is Queen Audrey safe?"

"Yes, she is. Your teammate, Flash, proved himself a better protector than any of her guards." He paused. "A debt of gratitude is owed to you all."

"Not as much as you might think," said Vigilante. "She wasn't the target. We were."

* * *

**Ten minutes ago. . .**

"The twins failed," said Odom tersely. "Nadia will rectify part of that situation. The speedster, as expected, has taken the route back toward the palace. You have approximately five seconds."

"Understood," said Miko, the bomb-maker. From his seventh-story vantage point he could see the entirety of the main road that the Flash should be zooming down any second. . .This would have to be timed just right.

There! A red blur. Visual information rushed via synaptic impulse to the brain, which screamed back down to his finger, 'PRESS THE BUTTON'. In small fraction of a second, Flash had already covered half the distance across the visible portion of roadway.

More crucial nanoseconds passed even as the detonator sent its signal to the bombs embedded on either side of the street. They had slightly underestimated Flash's speed, which was the only thing that saved his life. When the explosives detonated, he was well within the blast radius. But razor sharp reflexes kicked his flight reflex into overdrive just in time. Without the extra burden of carrying the Queen, he might have even outrun the explosions.

As it was, he was still struck by a wall of kinetic energy that sent him and the Queen careening into a cart of, ironically, the same desert the foursome had sampled earlier. Wally had wrapped himself around Audrey like a protective ball, absorbing most of the impact on his back and shoulders. It knocked every ounce of breath from his body, and even by the time they'd skidded to a halt he was seeing stars.

Audrey coughed, more from the settling debris than from any physical damage. She was literally lying on top of the speedster- until she realized that he wasn't conscious. All around the milling denizens of downtown Illyentov were fleeing away from the blast site. She didn't see any bodies, but it had all happened far too fast to know if there should have been any. Between this and the sniper back at Casablancas, the city's emergency switchboard would be lighting up like a Christmas tree.

The analytical parts of her brain began to kick in. Explosions. Bombs lined all along the roadway. No way could that be a coincidence. She turned back to Flash and tapped him gently across the cheek. His head lolled. "Wake up!" she demanded urgently. "I need you to-"

A burst of staccato gunfire pierced the air. Horrified, Audrey glanced back down the street. A compact, solidly built man of average height was striding briskly in the middle of the paved road. He was dressed in dark work clothes and carrying a P90 submachine gun. She grimaced at the irony, being able to recognize the weapon that would kill her thanks to Diric's training. If she ever made it out of this one, she would have to thank him. With the man steadily advancing down the street however, that was looking less and less likely. He was focused, examining the bomb wreckage on either side for his intended targets.

"Come on!" she hissed. From the man's vantage point, they weren't quite yet visible. There was burning wood and twisted metal from bike racks and public signs piled up for a good portion of the block. Still, if they stayed where they were, they were dead.

The man paused, squinting his eyes to make out his targets. He flicked a switch on the weapon, then resumed firing, bullets shredding through wood and rubber and soft metal. He was trying to flush them out, or maybe get lucky and kill them while firing blindly. His approach was steady and unavoidable. Like a nightmare come to life. She looked back down at Wally. He was still groggy and disoriented, conscious but barely so. _Wake up_, she silently pleaded.

The sound of metal sliding faintly against concrete stole her attention. Behind them, a manhole cover had been slightly moved. As she stared, a small hand poked up from the ground and moved it even further to the side. Enough for the head and shoulders of a small girl to pop up.

"Quick," hissed the girl. "In here."

In a manhole? Audrey's first instinct was categorically refuse. She was a queen for goodness sakes. Then common sense took over. If they were going to live. . .

Getting Wally into the manhole entrance was one of the most physically challenging feats she'd ever performed. And it didn't help that writhing on her back in a not inexpensive outfit while trying to drag a semiconscious spandex-clad superhero into a maintenance hole.

"Did you survive that one?" called out the man. She couldn't see him, but his voice was closer than she'd remembered him being. He was steadily approaching. She could hear the sounds of a magazine being ejected and a fresh one inserted. Leisurely. He was enjoying this. "I hope so," he continued. "I like the bombs, but there is nothing like a close, personal kill. I'm sure you will agree."

Audrey whirled back to the girl. "Where does this lead?

"Everywhere," replied the girl quickly. "Now quick, get him in before-oh _pavni_!"

Even Audrey recognized 'oh shit!' in the rural dialect the girl had reverted to. She turned around slowly. The attacker had come back into view, rounding the wreckage and coming to stand about twenty feet away from her and Wally. He had the walk and bearing of a professional, and there was no conceivable way that Audrey could escape before she was gunned down.

But didn't aim at her, rather he aimed down at Wally, whose eyes were shut. Carefully, at a range from which it was impossible to miss.

"Don't!" screamed Audrey just as he pulled the trigger.

* * *

Katya peered over the edge of the building where the American superheroine had fallen, machine pistol at the ready. No corpse. No nothing. It was as if she had just disappeared.

Suppressing a gulp of fear, Katya held firearm at the ready. The woman, Mari, had superb physical abilities. She could come leaping at her from any direction. She recalled seeing footage of Mari punching through industrial grade steel, or flipping over entire trucks. If only they'd been able to follow through with the long range kill.

Katya had expected Mari to pop up from any direction, ready to pump a magazine of hot lead into when she did. But she hadn't anticipated that Mari might come up from below. One moment, the ground and air were silent. The next, it was as if the roof under her exploded. She was flung into one of the metal piping sections that ran above the roof, knocking the wind out of her.

Then Katya's survival instincts kicked in. She rolled away from the piping and into a crouching sharpshooter position. She fired wildly with the machine pistol while reaching with the other hand into her back holster for a Glock .33 pistol, which she fired as well. The noise was deafening, but the telltale sounds she was listening for were absent. No meaty impact of bullet into soft flesh. No cries of pain.

Both guns clicked empty. The smoke cleared. No Mari.

"Turn around," said a steely voice from behind. And, as is human nature, Katya did just that. She turned around right into a haymaker that caught her square in the jaw, smashing teeth and bruising bone and rocking her head back. Dazed and panicked, Katya followed her training and tried swinging back. The punch had so disoriented her that the attempt looked more like her arm was flopping out in front of her.

Then she caught a stylishly-booted foot square in the face. She was unconscious before she hit the ground.

* * *

Miko fired, pouring out enough bullets to kill a dozen men. One target should have been no problem. Except that the target was no longer there.

He ended up being hit thirty-seven times in about the span of one second. It was like being beaten from every imaginable direction at the same time. His gun was snatched away so fast that this finger, still in the trigger, was flash-broken in the process.

_One_ second. Miko's body was screaming in pain. He couldn't even begin to process what had just happened to him. His last thought before blacking out was that something had gone very, very, wrong.

Wally waited for Miko to crumple to the ground before letting out a pent up cry of pain and cradling his knuckles under his arms. "Owwww!" he yelped, sucking his teeth. "Remind me not to go punching people barehanded again."

Audrey and the girl stared at him in amazement. One moment he'd been unconscious and the next he was standing over the battered form of the terrorist that had tried to kill them. He really was the fastest man alive.

"I-I thought you were knocked out," stammered Audrey.

Wally looked a bit sheepish. "Yeah," he said, "I think I was for a minute. That explosion did a number on me."

"And you did 'a number' on him back," Audrey added. "Thank you." She suddenly remembered the girl at her side, fading adrenaline allowing to really take in the poor thing for the first time. She was a petite girl, elf-like even with tousled brown hair and blue eyes. Her face was dirty and her clothes worn from the toll of a street urchin's existence. Audrey vaguely recalled hearing that growing numbers of the city's disenfranchised had taken to camping out in Illyentov's elaborate underground sewer tunnels. Clearly, this was the case.

"What's your name?" she asked the girl.

The girl's eyes narrowed. "Sofia."

Audrey crouched down, putting her at a little less than eye level with the girl. "That's a beautiful name, Sofia. I want to thank you for what you did in helping us. It was very brave."

"You're Queen Audrey, aren't you," said the girl, more of a statement than a question.

"Well, yes."

The girl's eyes went cold. "You're shorter than I thought you would be."

Flash, up until now quiet, had to stifle a laugh. Audrey shot him a souring glare, effectively shutting him up. She turned back to the girl. "I do get that a lot." She paused. "Tell me, Sofia. . .where are your parents?"

"Dead," said the girl bluntly. Then, hurriedly, "I have to go."

"Wait!" called Audrey, catching Sofia by the wrist and managing to hold the feisty girl still for a moment. "Stay, please. I want to thank you for-"

"I can't," protested the girl trying to pull free. "I am Naedi, don't you see? I cannot be here."

"And why not? I have no quarrel with you simply because heritage. You risked your life to save Fl- my friend and I. I must repay you somehow."

The girl's chin rose in defiance. "What will you do? Treat me to a lavish dinner, buy me clothes?"

"Well. . ." Audrey put on her most winning smile. "Yes. For starters."

They were interrupted by the arrival of a Civil Guard patrol as well as several of the Royal Guardsmen. Greg, Mari, and Diric had come with them in one of the CG transports. The girl looked scared witless by the imposing Kasnian insignias on the even more imposing soldiers' and SWAT personnel's uniforms. She made another attempt to bolt.

"Please," Audrey said urgently. "I am the queen, and I promise they will not hurt you. Come back with me to the palace, just for one night."

Sofia looked stricken with indecision. Her eyes flitted back and forth between the sewer entrance and Audrey's face for a moment. Then, "Do you have tacos?"

Audrey's smiled widened. "The royal chef makes the best tacos in town."

* * *

Mari, Greg, and Wally spent the ride back to the palace in an armored van with two heavily armed Civil Guardsmen in front and one on top, manning a machine gun turret. Given the flagrant display of weaponry by the military and the police alike, Greg had little difficulty seeing how the population could experience such unrest. This certainly was not America.

"Okay," Wally was saying, "So, did all of that really just happen?"

"Yep," sighed Mari. She looked beautiful as always, but her clothes were ripped and her shoes had been ruined during her encounter with the two terrorists in the cathedral. She was barefoot and clearly unhappy about it. "So much for a fun night on the town."

"Especially since they were targeting us, and not the queen," said Greg.

Flash frowned. "How can you be so sure?"

"Trust me, they were. The point woman, Nadia, went out of her way to draw me away, just so she could kill me. Wally, you made off with the queen thinking that you were protecting her. But the real target was you. If anything she would have been collateral damage.

"How the hell did they make us?" wondered Mari aloud. "How would they have known where to find us? We were out of costume, incognito for all intents and purposes, and it's not like our destination was broadcast to anyone.

"Except that it was," said Greg. "Way I see it, Audrey's got some loose lips aboard her ship, to borrow the expression. These K'Naedi must have a source in her Royal Guard tipping them off."

"We should warn-" Wally piped up.

"Trust me, she knows," muttered Mari. "She's pretty smart."

There was silence as all three went to their own thoughts. Then Mari looked up mischievously. "So, Wally, I heard you had get your ass saved by a five foot two woman and a twelve year old."

"What? Audrey's not that short-"

"Trust, me five-two is generous," Vigilante spoke up at Wally's expense.

"Well there's no way that girl was only twelve."

"Wrong again. Twelve years old Wally," laughed Mari. "Maybe she should have your spot in the League, eh?"

Wally crossed his arms, not quite pouting but close. "Whatever you guys. She was very mature for her age then. Besides, I was the one who took out Rambo back there."

The van hit a bump in the road, shunting all of the passengers toward the front. Mari found herself thrown haphazardly into Greg, whose head shunted painfully into the grated barrier separating the cab from the front. The proximity was fleeting but powerful, and despite herself she let it linger for a bit longer than necessary.

Wally rapped on the partition. "Everything okay out there?"

"Yes," called the driver. "Usually we do not take our vehicles through this district, the populace is rather. . .hostile. Most just shout obscenities, but occasionally they will leap in front of our transports. It is an annoyance, little more."

Satisfied, Wally turned back to Mari and Greg. "Shame about that Nadia chick, you know. She was beyond fine. Those eyes, that smile, that walk. . ."

"I disjointed her right knee," said Greg flatly, a bit annoyed that Wally was still fawning over the woman who'd tried to kill them. "I don't think she'll be walking anywhere for a while. Not to mention whatever the Royal Guard's gonna do to her."

Mari sighed. "Here we go again."

"Hey." Vigilante raised both hands in protest. "Trust me, I know this ain't the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave and all that. Different rules."

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean they're going to torture the terrorists," countered Mari. "Don't you remember Audrey telling us about the new oversights she's installed? Kasnia is now a signatory to the Geneva Convention for heaven's sakes."

Vig gave a small chuckle. "Seems like I always wind up being the cynic, doesn't it?"

This thawed Mari out a bit. "And me the idealist. Look, these guys did try to kill us and did kill one of the queen's Guardsmen. I'm sure they won't be coddled but I refuse to believe that Audrey would condone torture."

"Well, believe it or not I hope you're right," said Greg, quirking a rare smile at her.

"Me too cowboy," said Mari, patting his arm.

Across the cab Wally was nanoseconds away from blurting out the fact that they seemed really cozy lately. But he didn't. Greg had kind of spooked him out with all the talk of dislocating legs and whatnot. In fact, he was saved from more conversation filler altogether when the driver announced without much fanfare that they'd arrived back at the royal palace.

"So, what're you gonna do with the rest of the night?" Wally asked once they'd filed out.

Mari laughed. "Look at us. We're scratched and bloodied and bruised and that's nothing compared to what our clothes have been through. I'm taking a hot shower and then I'm going to take another hot shower and then I'm going to sleep."

"Amen," echoed Vigilante.

Wally looked ruefully down at his own ruined attire. "Yeah, you're right. But hey, we kicked ass tonight guys."

Mari cocked her head to the side. "You know what, you're right. We did."

Wally flashed a grin and raised both hands for a high five, in which (surprisingly) both Greg and Mari indulged him. "Let's get some rest then and tomorrow we can figure out how to help Audrey put a stop to all this nonsense."

Mari laughed as she began walking up the steps. "Piece of cake."

* * *

**Queen's Royal Quarters**

"So," said Audrey, sitting across the dinner table from Sofia. "What do you think?"

The girl had ravenously devoured the taco salad that Audrey's chefs were ordered to prepare. They'd begged the queen not to insult their talent for so mundane a dish, but she'd made it clear that the issue was non-negotiable. Without a doubt, this was the taco salad to top all taco salads.

"It's so good," murmured Sofia, finally coming up to breathe. "I can't believe you eat like this every day.

"Well, not quite," chuckled Audrey. "Figure to maintain and all that. Plus my metabolism isn't what it used to be."

The girl stared at her blankly, then immediately resumed her consumption of every morsel on the plate. When she finally did finish, a well-fed glow lit her cheeks that definitely hadn't been there before.

And that wasn't the only difference. Audrey had given the girl full use of the guest baths and facilities, even provided her with some old clothes. Underneath all the grime lay a fascinating girl. She wasn't yet pretty, but once she fully grew into her features she would be stunning. Of course, living on the streets, this would be of no advantage at all. Kasnia was not exempt from the scourge of sex slavery and child prostitution, though Audrey had certainly implemented more policies to curb the practice than her father's regime. Still, she resolved then and there that she would never let this girl be swept into the underbelly of Kasnian society.

Sofia let out a soft burp, which jarred Audrey from her thoughts. "All done?" she asked.

"Yes, yes I believe so."

"When was the last time you ate?" Audrey gently pressed.

Sofia's change of subject was so smooth that even Audrey didn't register it at first. "You know, you are not supposed to be this nice."

"According to who?" wondered Audrey.

"I have heard that you are a raging whore who regularly offers her flesh in vile and filthy acts with all manner of outsider and foreigner. That you kidnap my people for sport, and hunt them like game. Oh yes, and they also say your hair color is unnatural."

It was all Audrey could do to keep from spitting out her imported water. "Oh-oh my," she stammered, still not fully recovered. "That is. . .quite a vocabulary you have."

"My father was a schoolteacher," Sofia began. "He. . ." she stopped abruptly, something immensely sad passing over her face before she reigned in her features. "Never mind, it is not important."

Not wanting to prod too far just yet, Audrey let this second omission go. Clearly the girl was reluctant to open up. Best to take things slowly.

"You know," Sofia was saying, "I never believed all those things about you."

"Even though you're Naedi?"

The girl laughed. "You say Naedi as if it is a monolithic entity. There are dozens of tribes, perhaps more, in the mountains. They are all Naedi and many do not even speak the same language. While it is true that you are almost universally re. . .revol. . ." she snapped her fingers. "Reviled. That is the word, yes?"

Audrey just nodded blankly. She felt like she was talking to another adult when the girl was half her age. Clearly, this Sofia was something special. And more importantly, she reminded her of another girl. The one that had tried to kill her. Audrey would never forget the hopelessness, the twisted rage in that young woman's eyes. Who knew what circumstances had led her to attempt regicide, but Audrey knew that that girl would haunt her for the rest of her life. Maybe with this one. . .

"You have drifted away," observed Sofia.

"I'm sorry," apologized Audrey. "I didn't mean to ignore you."

"I know," Sofia said. "In truth, I should probably be getting back. It's already dark and I don't want-"

Audrey emphatically shook her head. "You're not going anywhere. And before you become alarmed, I only mean that it's far too late to send you back into the city, and my hospitality has not come close to expiring. I want you to stay here in the palace, with me."

Sofia snorted. "What would I do all day, eat tacos? You don't understand, I've been gone too long already."

"What do you mean 'too long'? Who's waiting for you?"

The girl bit her lower lip. "There is an unused vent in the tunnels beneath the city. It is usually warm and no one else knows about it." She looked back up at Audrey. "It is my home."

Audrey leaned forward, a lump forming in her throat. "It doesn't have to be."

* * *

**Mari's Quarters**

An extended soak in the tub, Mari decided, was just what the doctor ordered. Languidly, she reclined in the rocking chair, enjoying the gentle swaying motion and the smooth woodwind jazz that was currently wafting through the room, courtesy of her new mp3 player.

The jarring buzz of her cell phone took a minute to register. Who the hell could be calling? The answer sprung to mind a moment later, and another moment before it was confirmed on the screen. John.

She hesitated briefly, but nonetheless tapped on the talk icon and turned off the background music with the radio remote. She flicked on speakerphone, closing her eyes. "Hello."

"Mari," came John's deep voice. Even after all that had happened, that voice would never cease to have an effect on her.

"John," she said coolly. "How are you?"

"I'm well," he replied. "Decided to come back planetside for a while."

"Good for you."

"Needed the fresh air." He paused. "I heard about your little excitement this evening. Terrorists with pro caliber skills. . .probably a bit more than you bargained for."

"Well of course being shot at is no fun. Still, the three of us did take down a team of assassin's wanted in five different countries, collectively. Not bad for a night's work."

"True."

"But that's not the only reason you called, is it?"

"Yeah. . ." He sighed. "Mari, you know we didn't leave things in a good place the last time we talked."

"True," she mimicked him.

"And you didn't let me explain the situation-"

"Whoa!" Mari interjected, sitting up. "You explained all you need to, John. You're. . .'destined' I guess, to be with Shayera. Doesn't sound complicated to me."

"Oh, stop it," he said. "You're being childish. You know the situation is more complicated than that. What I saw was the future. . _.a _future, actually. That doesn't mean it's set in stone."

Mari rolled her eyes. "John, not to get bogged down in time paradoxes, but if what you saw was the future as it proceeded from that point, that means that somewhere along the way, not too long from then, you and I became you and Shayera. Why would that happen, unless-"

"Unless what?"

"Unless you're in love with Shayera." She said it and then held her breath, silently begging him to refute her. Just to deny it.

"Mari, we don't know the future-"

"John I don't care about the future. I care about right now. Right now, at this moment, do you love her?"

"Of course, just like I love everyone who's close to me."

"Stop dodging the damn question," she snapped. "Are you in love with her."

A pregnant pause. Then a sigh. Then, "Mari. . ."

"I thought so," she said, her voice trembling. "And I also think that I can't do this, John."

"You can't do what?"

"Us."

His breath caught. "Oh. Mari, are you saying you want to break up?"

It hit her that perhaps she was being a bit impulsive. At the very least, this conversation should be happening in person, not over the phone a thousand miles away. She chose her next words carefully. "I'm saying that I think we should take a break, John. I don't know what I want long term, but I know that right now I can't stand the thought of being with a man who loves another woman. I can't do it John."

"I chose you," John said stonily. "Why isn't that enough?"

"Because your heart chose her," she answered simply. "Long before I even came into your life."

"You're being unreasonable Mari."

"Then I'll just have to live with that, I guess." She brought a hand to the corner of her eye, where once again suspicious moisture was forming. "I'm going to sleep now, John. I'll. . .I'll see you later."

"Fine." John hung up rather abruptly. Mari recognized the tone. He was angry and trying to conceal it._ Good for him, _she thought bitterly.

Still, she didn't sleep. She couldn't. She'd just broken up with the greatest boyfriend she'd ever had. Part of her was screaming that she must have lost her mind to turn her back on all that they'd had. The room was silent but the clamor in her mind could not be silenced.

She stretched, looking around for where she'd tossed her shoes. Clearly, sleep wouldn't be happening anytime soon.

* * *

**A/N**: More action next chapter I promise, and no more new OC's (well, almost). Don't worry though; things will start speeding up very soon indeed. Please please please tell me what you think, the good and the bad and the ugly. It's the holidays after all.

Oh, and Happy Holidays!

Til next time!

-C


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

**Unkown Detention Facility  
**

When Nadia awoke she was manacled spread eagle to a white slab of. . .who knew what the hell it was? Marble? Ceramic? It was hard and uncomfortable and cold. All the more so because her clothes, save the underwear, had been removed. She realized with a start that her head had also been shaved.

There was the taste of some foreign substance in her mouth. A drug of some sort. The cyanide capsule that had been secured behind her third molar was gone, and her tongue felt rubbery and desensitized. The metal bands securing her to the platform were painfully tight. Especially the one around her neck. She could barely move her head. Barely turn it away from the flickering light that dangled directly above her. The sole source of illumination in this dark place.

As if on cue, Another naked lightbulb sprang to life in front of her. The man who had lit it was tall and dark haired, even handsome in a cruel sort of way. He had a faint scar running down the lower left part of his forehead and curving toward, but just missing, his eye. She'd never metthe man personally, but every K'Naedi operative was familiar with the infamous Diric Chenkev, the Queen's enforcement arm.

He sat down at the table that she could now see. On the table was an old-fashioned chessboard, all worn wood and hand-carved. Next to it was a brown leather briefcase. Nadia was very interested in the briefcase. She couldn't tear her eyes away from it.

Diric seemed more interested in the chessboard. He casually reached out and picked up the far left pawn. "A2 to B3," he said, moving the far right front pawn to a new space. He looked up at her, pinned to a slab, and asked like it was the most natural question in the world, "Do you play chess, Nadia?"

She spit at him, a pathetic spray that went nowhere and didn't seem to faze Diric in the slightest. He steepled his fingers. "Figured as much. Not a lot of time for board games when you're trying to kill us true Kasnians, is there?"

She clenched her jaw.

"Alright, how about this one? Ever heard of the Kasnian Gambit?"

What the hell was he doing? All this nonsensical chatter. She wished he would just get to the interrogation already. She'd been trained to withstand it, and was more than willing to die for her cause.

"Just wondering," he said when she didn't answer. "I love chess myself. One time I had a gentleman in your spot. Not only did he play chess, but he claimed to be downright good at it. Now, K'Naedi or not, I love a good chess match. So I told him, 'you beat me and you die quickly'. Mind you, this was after he'd seen my handiwork on several others. Bastard beat me, can you believe it? And true to my word, I shot him right between the eyes. It was a good death, all things considered."

The manacles hurt. She could feel her own pulse, struggling to push its way past the pressure on her wrists.

"No answer? Fair enough." He set the chess piece down and ran a hand over the briefcase exterior. "Let's try a simpler question. How can I find Viktor?"

Nadia laughed, despite her dire straits. "It is impossible. He is a ghost."

He squinted at her, like a scientist studying a lab rat. "You know, I've interrogated dozens of people before. It's a very complex art, distinguishing fact from fiction. The face says it all though. Universal twitches and flashes of the truth we try so hard not to betray. You're a good liar, I'll give you that. But lying you are."

"I cannot help you," gritted out Nadia.

"It's funny, because that's what your friend Miko said. He had that exact same expression too. Intense preparation. You've been trained to withstand torture then, yes?"

She inhaled sharply.

"Right." He opened the mysterious briefacase and began pulling out tools. Knives. Long ones with serrated edges, like you use to cut large, tough slabs of meat. Small, precise ones. Fat-bladed cleavers. It was like some sort of grotesque museum exhibit. Diric smiled as he watched her eyes, wide with growing fear, follow the placement of each tool. There were over a dozen in all. Gleaming, stainless steel. So sharp they'd cut you just looking at them.

"I've had a fascination with knives since I was a boy," went on Diric conversationally. "It all started the day I saw my father hacked to pieces in front of me and my mother. Lyman was his name-" He saw the glint of recognition in his captive's eyes. "You recognize the name then?"

The woman fixed him with a glare of pure contempt. "Viktor's first kill. Every K'Naedi knows the story of how he slaughtered the monster known as Lyman." She smiled. "I hear he suffered a great deal in those last moments. That he screamed like a woman when he met his fate."

Diric could feel his own pulse throbbing, his blood pressure rising. Her words were like pure venom. He wanted to end her life here and now. All it would take was a vicious swipe. His hands trembled.

Then they became still. Practicality took over. The woman would die, but not before he learned what he needed to. He forced himself to smile. "They say torture is the worst way to learn the truth. You put a man, or woman, in enough pain and they'll tell you anything. Anything at all to end their suffering. Or they might tell you nothing at all. They might be trained to withstand any possible infliction. And after you've actually started the process. . .well, the threat itself is gone, isn't it?"

He picked up the first knife, a long, wickedly serrated thing. He held it like a precious treasure. "I disagree with what 'they' say. I think that if you ask a person a question that can be verified in some sort of reasonable timeframe, increasing the pain inflicted with each false answer, that person will become _very_ motivated to start telling the truth."

"You'll get nothing from me," murmured Nadia. "And you'll never find Viktor. Ever."

"Oh but that is where you are SO mistaken!" roared Diric suddenly, his nose coming to within an inch of hers. "Because that is _exactly_ what your dear friend Miko told me and he did not even last an hour under my blades before he was spilling his guts. No pun intended. Now you _will_ verify the coordinates of each and every safehouse he gave me and if your answers do not match up to his or do not yield fruitful results then I will carve you up bit by bit until every knife here is dull."

His breath was ragged now, his face flushed. "I don't think anyone can be trained to withstand torture because in the back of their mind, no matter how intense the simulation, they know that it isn't real. That it will end. That the pain will stop. Well. Not in here. Not in my care. The pain will _not_ stop until I know what I need to know. Hours, days, months even. . .sooner or later everyone cracks, just like poor Miko." He brought the knife's edge to the corner of her eyes. The tip tickled her eyelashes, wide open with primeval fear.

He trailed the dull side of the blade down her face like a cold, steel caress. His mouth was a hair's breadth from her ear. "Now. I ask again. Where. Is. Viktor?"

* * *

**John Stewart's Apartment**

John Stewart opened the door to his modest apartment fully expecting a delivery boy from the Shaolin Express restaurant he'd called earlier. A little Chinese food and a marathon of John Wayne movies was a pretty decent night as far as he was concerned. Especially with Mari having dumped him.

He expected a delivery boy but what greeted him was someone else entirely.

"Shayera," he said. The sentence stopped there, for there was nothing else he could think to say.

She smiled. It was raining lightly outside and she hadn't brought an umbrella. Her fiery red hair was damp and clung to her face and neck, though he could still make out those green eyes of hers as they searched his own. "John," she said simply.

"Umm." Manners kicked in. "Here, come inside." He stepped back to allow her entry.

"Thanks," she murmured as she walked in, her heels clicking on the hardwood portion of the floor. She turned back to face him, holding up a brown paper bag that, judging from its delicious aroma, could only be one thing. "I believe you ordered this. Sesame chicken, crab Rangoon, and white rice if memory serves me. . ."

She was dead on, bringing a whole rush of memories flooding through the gate. John was still at a complete loss for what she was doing so he stalled. "So, um, what happened to the delivery boy?"

Her smile grew. "I ran into him outside your apartment actually. Gave him payment and a tip to let me deliver instead."

"And why would you do that?" he asked.

Her eyes searched his. "I missed you."

Three simple words, loaded with so much complexity and meaning. "I just saw you this week."

"Not what I meant," she countered mildly, stepping closer. Then, in an abrupt change of topic, "So whatcha watchin over here anyway?" She set the food down on the dining room table and veered over to the couch, picking up the remote to see what movies he'd programmed for the night. For anyone else it would have been intrusive as hell, and John couldn't decide why Shayera was an exception right now. But she was.

"The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance," she recited off of the DVR's info tab. "Now this is a classic. John Wayne, Jimmy Stewart, Vera Miles. . ." She paused, as if ticking off an invisible checklist. "Chinese food and Westerns. It's true isn't it?"

"What's true?"

"You and Mari." She didn't need to finish the statement.

John froze in shock. How in the hell had word spread that fast? "It was her," he said. "I. . .I didn't see it coming."

"You should have," said Shayera, walking back to where he was standing. "Mari's a strong, independent woman. How else could she react to the conversation you two obviously had?"

"It almost sounds like you admire her," John said.

She half-smiled. "I do. Doesn't mean I think she was right for you."

John took a deep breath. "Here," he offered, doing a bit of topic-switching himself. "Let me take your coat."

"John-"

"Some conversations you just shouldn't have on an empty stomach."

"Does that mean I can stay for dinner and a movie?" Shayera shrugged off the trenchcoat she was wearing, an innocent yet undeniably sensual motion that sent arcs of attraction racing through John. Her backless white blouse wasn't exactly provocative, but the toned muscle and smooth cream-colored skin of her arms and back were almost impossible to tear his eyes away from.

Lastly, she unclipped the harness that held her wings in place. For one glorious moment, they unfurled to full span, seeming to fill the entire room. Then she returned them to their resting position. Languidly she removed her boots and curled up on the couch, her feet tucked under her.

John shoved aside the voice in his head screaming at him that this was a bad idea. Oh, it probably was, but strangely he didn't care. He was tired of fighting to stay away from the one woman who. . .

"You comin?" Shayera teased, her body angled so she could see over the back of the couch.

He found a fork for her and, as an impromptu extra, grabbed a bottle of wine from the top of the refrigerator. "Comin' don't get your feathers in bunch," he shot back.

"No promises." Her eyes widened as he came around with the Chinese food and the wine. "Ooh, fancy."

"It's a three dollar bottle," he said wryly, sitting down next to her and placing the goods on the table.

She laughed, leaning against him ever so slightly. "Sometimes a little mystery is a good thing." Impulsively, she kissed him on the cheek. But before the Green Lantern even had a chance to respond she hit 'play' on the television remote.

He started to turn toward her but she reached up and grasped his jaw, angling it back toward the screen. "John," she mock-admonished. "Watch the movie."

* * *

**The Next Morning**

**Kasnia  
**

Mari had just achieved the Flying Crow position when she heard a knock on her door. "Room Service," called a muffled voice.

She didn't move. The Flying Crow was one of the most difficult yoga positions to master. It rested the entire body's weight on just the two hands, while the left leg extended out backwards as a counterbalance and the right leg was tucked between the torso and elbows. Her record for holding it was fifty seconds and now she was on thirty-fve. "Come in," she managed, doing her best to maintain the delicate state of balance she'd reached.

The door open and in stepped Greg, which was enough to send her toppling to the ground in an embarrassing. "Owww."

"Here," said Greg setting down the tray he'd entered with to extend a hand. "Lemme help you up."

Ruefully, she took it, allowing the cowboy to pull her to her feet. "Room service my ass, Vig."

"Just playin," he said nonchalantly. She noticed he was back in full Vigilante dress, only with the bandana pulled down to reveal his face. "What the hell were you doin just now anyway?"

"It's a yoga pose," she explained. "One of the more advanced ones. The Flying Crow."

He snickered. "Falling Crow more like it."

"Oh shut up. It's good for stress."

He was tempted to ask just what had her so stressed out, but he suspected he knew the answer. Clearing his throat, he gestured to the breakfast tray he'd carried in. "Umm, got you a little something," he said. "Flapjacks, bacon, scrambled eggs, even a heapin' of tater tots."

Mari laughed. "A real country breakfast. How'd you get those snooty chefs of hers to fix this up?"

He smirked. "I didn't . I just got them to let me use the kitchen for spell."

"The guitar-playing, gun-toting cowboy who can cook." She shook her head in amusement. "I bet you have to beat the ladies off with a stick back home."

He waved a dismissive hand to that comment. As if he could even think about other women when she was around. The fact that she was clad in a sports bra, spandex shorts, and nothing else didn't really help matters. She was one of the most famous supermodels in the world for a reason, after all. "Just eat your breakfast, darlin'. We got a long day ahead of us."

"Oh?" Mari had already plopped down on the bed, cross-legged, and was digging into the meal with gusto. "Like what?" she asked through a mouthful of food.

"Well, Diric seems to think that having us here could lead to some useful training sessions for his men. Mostly Royal Guard but some of their specialized police forces too."

She cocked her head at him. "Being gawked at by a punch of police cadets? Doesn't sound like your idea of a good time, Greg."

The corner of his mouth twitched upward, just a bit. "You know me too well, Mari. But, I'm bored out of my skull right now and it's either that or watch the Russian game shows that seem to be on every channel. Besides, they have a pretty decent gun range from what I hear. Hate to get rusty just cuz we're on vacation."

"Vacation," she repeated. "Right. . ." Finishing the last scraps of bacon, she placed the now-empty tray on her nightstand and stood to stretch. "Well, I'll catch up with you on the way. The training facility's connected to the palace, right?"

"Yep, 'bout a quarter of a mile to the north. Whole thing's underground. The Royal Guard live there, sleep there, train there. . .should be interesting, I'll say."

"I'm sure." Sliding open the closet door she began rifling through her clothes. "What do you think? Civvies or uniform?"

Calling the glamorous, flashy outfit she wore as Vixen a _uniform_ was stretching the word a bit, he thought. No complaints, of course. "Go with the latter, since we're here in our official capacities."

"Right." She held up the golden bodysuit. "Vixen it is."

* * *

**Royal Quarters**

When Audrey saw Diric in her office that morning, he had an unusual spring in his step. "My, you look chipper today," she remarked.

He shrugged. "Well, we have made a lot of headway in the investigation."

"Right, the captured K'Naedi assassins. I should like to speak with them."

He winced. "That. . .might be a bit problematic, your highness."

The queen frowned. "And why is that?"

"False nails."

The frown deepened. "False nails?"

"It's a new tactic of theirs. You see, our officers know to incapacitate the oral cyanide capsules, which are usually hidden behind or inside a tooth. With these four, we've seen a rather interesting countermeasure. They drill down into the part of the finger just under the nail, implanting a second cyanide capsule. The resulting wound is allowed to heal, but around the capsule. Then, if captured, this new breed of assassin merely has to suck on the finger, creating enough suction force to actually dislodge the capsule. After that, it's simply a matter of swallowing the poison pill, and they have died divulging nothing. Rather ingenious, actually."

Diric watched as Audrey listened to the lie, considered it, and then accepted it. It wouldn't be the first lie he'd told her and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Fortunately, he was good enough at it that even a woman as bright as the queen had yet to pick up on the deception.

The four captured assassins had not committed suicide, of course. They'd been interrogated very thoroughly by Diric and his knives and died in excruciating agony. The twins hadn't know a thing, he was fairly confident. Miko had known a little, and Nadia a little bit more. Five hours total he'd spent on the group. They were more resilient than most, but Diric doubted there was anyone who, while being dissected alive, could maintain loyal silence. He had yet to encounter the man or woman who could.

"Well," Audrey was saying, " if they all committed suicide then what kind of lead could you possibly have?"

"Clothing," he lied again. "There's a certain regional manufacture that I believe can help us narrow down the main K'Naedi base. The presence of handwoven garments also suggests that entire communities may be collaborating with these terrorists."

"Seems rather careless of them," mused Audrey.

"With your permission I would like to capitalize on their carelessness," he pressed. "A strike force, commandeered by me personally, could go into mountains and root out this problem once and for all."

Audrey was already shaking her head. "Diric, we have had this discussion. Attempting to wage war against a phantom enemy like the K'Naedi in the mountains makes little political sense and even less military sense. Not once in the history of this nation have Naedi fighting forces lost a conflict waged on their home turf."

"There is a first time for everything, my liege. And my people have had extensive training in this type of warfare-"

"I appreciate that," said the queen firmly. "But I still won't allow it. What we need to focus on are the terrorist cells already in our cities. I'm certain you're right that many K'Naedi reside in the mountains. But so do many peacefull Naedi tribes and villages. Going in without knowing friend from foe. . .that is simply going to drive up recruitment for these terrorist acts. I'm sorry but request denied, Diric. Limit your actions to the mainland for now."

Diric had to struggle to control the clench in his jaw. "As you command."

"Carry on then, and please keep me appraised of further developments."

He bowed deeply. "Of course. If you will indulge me however, there is one last request I have."

She looked up again, suspiciously. "Yes?"

"I'd like to borrow your guests for today's training regimen. I thought with their extensive combat and tactical expertise they might be of some use to us."

"Diric, you know I had planned to take them with me for my public appearances. In the wake of last night's events more than ever, it's important for people to see and believe in the resilience of their queen."

"Indeed. I propose a compromise. The most visible and well-known of the trio, Flash could accompany you for PR purposes, while the other two could spend the day with me and my men."

"Must it be today?" Audrey asked him.

Diric's expression became grim. "If we do not capitalize on the information recently gained, then it will become of no value. I'm tired of fruitless raids and futile strikes, all the while these K'Naedi scum are murdering our people. My men are good, but these newcomers are in an entirely different league. I think the Royal Guard would benefit from this."

Audrey sighed. "Very well. Flash will accompany me and Vixen and Vigilante will entertain you and your men for the day, I suppose. Assuming they consent, of course."

Diric was about to answer when the door to Audrey's office suddenly swung open. He almost missed the person responsible, looking up rather than down to Sofia's level. The brown-haired young girl froze when she realized the queen had company.

Diric was not amused. "Who is this?" he asked brusquely.

Rising to stand beside Sofia, Audrey quickly took control of the situation. "Hey, Sofia," she said. "I'd like you to meet Diric Chenkev, my chief of security."

_Ah_, Diric thought, come to think of it he had heard something about Audrey taking in a poor little Naedi orphan. Disgusting. He'd been too preoccupied with his interrogations to give the rumors any credence, but the repulsive thing was standing right there, in the flesh.

He hated Naedi. All of them. He resolved to remove the girl from the palace one way or another. Associating with the creature was the last thing Audrey needed right now.

He tried to mask his contempt for the girl, but there really wasn't much need. The feeling, if the glare on her face could be trusted, was quite mutual.

"Was there anything else, Diric?" inquired the queen.

He shook his head. "No, not for now. I will direct Flash to you, and continue working on the other matters we discussed." With a final bow, he exited the chamber, his mind already on future plans.

By now, Viktor would be furious. The assault ordered by his underling had failed, just as Diric had suspected it would. Not that the outcome was of any great importance. If one of the Leaguers should have perished, all the better. He suspected he was going to have to eliminate them anyway, if they planned on remaining in Kasnia for much longer.

Still, it was important that he not lose the trust of the K'Naedi, not yet. As the mysterious informant, he had proven very useful for some of their operations. Of course, they could hardly suspect that his ultimate goal was the death of Viktor and the destruction of the entire Naedi people.

So far, the arrangement had worked brilliantly in his favor. He'd facilitated the first attempt on Audrey's life, positioning himself to arrive just in the nick of time for a 'heroic' rescue. Having gained the queen's trust and confidence, he'd set about provoking her aggression toward the K'Naedi. Easier said than done. The strong-willed Audrey would hear none of it, even from him. Even after the second attack he allowed to happen, she reacted not by authorizing more raids of suspected collaborationist villages, but rather by calling in the damned Justice League.

It was time for the next 'terrorist' attack he'd been planning. The K'Naedi themselves would never do it on their own, but then it wasn't as if he needed them. His own agents would do the dirty work, while the K'Naedi would take the blame. Then, Audrey would have no choice but to move decisively against them once and for all.

He checked his wristwatch, realizing that he was due soon to meet with Vixen and Vigilante. In the meantime, there was so much planning to be done. . .

* * *

Vigilante and Vixen met Diric in a large rotunda located in the palace's north wing. The steel and glass enclosure was grand, but as far as either of them could tell, completely empty.

Diric appraised the Vigilante costume with some concern. "I thought you were going to forego the cowboy appearance during your time here," was the first thing he said.

"I was," Vigilante replied. "Then I had the unpleasant experience of fighting for my life in Italian loafers. The uniform stays, and y'all will just have to get used to it."

Diric seemed surprised by the other man's direct approach. For a pregnant pause, nothing was said. Then, "Fair enough. Welcome to our training facilities."

"It's an empty dome," Vixen said bluntly. "You're joking right?"

"In a matter of speaking," chuckled Diric. He cleared his throat. "Descent level Epsilon initiate."

And that was when the fun started. The entire ground beneath their feet began to slowly descend down a massive round shaft. The two heroes watched in awe as their surroundings changed into girders and limestone deposits. The air became different, more humid. They plunged into complete darkness for a moment, and then a hot of fluorescent lights snapped on as far as the eye could see, revealing an immense training complex milling with Kasnian military and police forces. There were gun ranges, sparring mats, and mock-ups of buildings and entire streets. Urban warfare training, by Vigilante's reckoning.

He was rather impressed.

"This is our subterranean compound, announced Diric proudly. The Royal Guard lives here, sleeps here, and trains here. The facility is also used by our _Karzai_, the equivalent of your SWAT teams as well as certain branches of the Kasnian military. The boundary between police and military is something of a blurred line here anyway, and so the process is actually quite seamless."

Vixen noted with interest how their arrival had caused nearly everyone in the massive complex to gawk and stare. With their relatively flashy uniforms, she supposed they stood quite a bit from the fluorescent-lit blue and white colors of the compound. Every other person there wore black bodysuits, some with additional black chestplates, shoulder plates, gauntlets, and boots. The uniforms were saved from monochrome sartorial disaster by the bright red and black seal emblazoned on the shoulders of each uniform. It bore the Kasnian emblem in start relief, with minor variations to distinguish membership in different units.

Greg, on the other hand, noted that they had stopped walking upon reaching the gun range. All of the officers making practice shots had stopped, except for one man. He was about average height, but incredibly broad shouldered. He held a Beretta semiautomatic handgun and he was firing at the target paper, stretched out on a rack about about forty feet away. All of his shots were on or near the center ring. About half had even clustered around the bullseye. Vigilante was impressed. Handgun accuracy at that range was a rare thing.

Diric made a gesture of introduction. "This is my second in command, Linski. He is our firearms instructor and a superb marksman to boot. He has even won the International Marksman's Trophy four years in a row. "

Vigilante nodded at Linksi. "It's nice to meet you."

Linksi bowed his head but said nothing. The cursory appraisal he'd given the cowboy read unimpressed, to say the least.

"Actually," Diric continued, "I hear you're quite the renowned marksman yourself."

Mari bit her lip, watching the exchange escalate. A small crowd had built up now, some of the cadets and lower officers gathering with open curiosity. It wasn't hard to guess where Diric was going with this.

Vigilante shrugged, neither arrogant nor falsely modest. "If I can see it, I can pretty much hit it."

Diric nodded sagely, while Linski snorted dismissively. The bull before the matador. Mari thought sarcastically that they might as well cut to the chase and 'whip em out' already with a measuring stick. _Men. . ._

Diric looked back and forth between Linski and Greg. "Care for a friendly competition then, Vigilante? I think the men could benefit from observing the technique of an outsider, especially one with your breadth of experience."

_Sure you do. _Greg didn't answer immediately. What he did, as an operative, was half training and half dumb talent. He could teach the former but never the latter. Not in a million years.

Still. . .it had been a while since he'd fired a gun, an activity that came as natural to him as breathing. And he had been planning to hit the firing ranges anyway. He supposed a little demonstration wasn't out of the question.

With a twirl that was more habit than showmanship, he took out the revolver strapped to his right leg. The design strongly resembled the massive .44 Colt Anaconda pistol. The resemblance was completely superficial, an aesthetic conceit that he harbored from a lifelong Clint Eastwood addiction. Inside the casings of his twin pistols lay some of the most sophisticated firearm technology on the planet. Specialized adaptable chambers that could fire most any ammunition known to man, and some that weren't. Tactical rails that could house attachments from scopes to lasers to incendiary pellet tubes. Most importantly, inertial compensators that reduced recoil and vertical barrel displacement to virtually nil.

Linski eyed the pistol, unable to completely mask the admiration in his eyes. "Custom pieces, I presume."

Vigilante nodded. Then he surprised everyone, even Mari, by putting the pistol right back in it's holster. "Don't worry," he said. "Fair's fair. I won't use 'em. I'll take my turn with the same gun as you."

"This is acceptable to me," said Linski. He ejected the remaining rounds in his Beretta Model 92FS. A fine piece, almost exactly two pounds of lightweight aluminum construction. It fired the 9mm Parabellum, if Vigilante recalled correctly. Thirteen per magazine. The US military had used the weapon as standard issue for almost three decades and Greg, during his enlisted time, had never had a problem with it.

He tipped up his hat, observing as Linski squared into a traditional shooter's stance. The body positioned to absorb recoil as a efficiently as possible. The one hand stabilizing the other to keep the barrel on target. _Not bad. . ._

Linski took a deep breath. Then he fired. One round per second. The 'audience' watched, mesmerized, as every single shot fell within the center ring. Almost half were dead bullseye. This was an Olympic-level feat at such a distance, and even Greg felt suitably impressed.

The display went on until the magazine clicked empty. It was a cluster of thirteen rounds that, in diameter, was no more than six inches. The precision was unreal. Diric's boasts about his marksmanship didn't seem to be exaggerated in the slightest.

Linski smirked, satisfied and a great deal more smug. He calmly inserted a fresh clip and tossed the weapon to Greg, who snatched it smoothly out of the air. The heft was crude, not at all like his own pistols. The weight was different, the grip smaller. He wondered for a brief moment if he could really outshoot this prodigy.

He didn't bother stripping the pistol down and reassembling it. There was such a thing as taking showmanship past its limits. He walked to the firing line and took aim with just the one hand. He fired. Quick, rapid shots that expended the entire magazine in less than ten seconds. Barely enough time to shoot let alone aim. The results were abysmal. Only one round had even made it within the center ring. The rest were literally all over the target.

Mari gasped. She was pretty sure even _she_ could shoot better than that. What the hell was Vig doing?

Diric filled in the awkward silence with a bemused observation. "It would appear that reports of your prowess were. . .less than accurate."

Vigilante didn't seem very put off by the remark. "Check the target," he said. "One bullet precisely through the bullseye. The rest blew perfect holes in every zero, six, and eight that appears in the marked targeting numbers. I hit exactly what I was trying to hit."

As one, the mass of collective heads turned to verify this statement. Sure enough, once you knew where to look, the bullet holes were perfectly placed, as if they'd been made at point blank range in some bizarre game of connect-the-dots. A low gasp echoed through the underground chamber. Diric's face was unreadable, and Linski's face was wound tighter than a guitar string, as Greg himself had been known to say.

He turned to the gathered soldiers and servicemen of Kasnia. "If I leave you with one thing, remember that out there in the real world it ain't about hittin a bullseye. Your targets won't stand still and they won't be directly in front of you waitin' to get blown away. A truly great shooter hits what he wants to hit, nothin' more, nothin' less. You learn that kind of precision and it could very well save your life someday. Or someone else's."

Murmurs of awe and admiration began sweeping the makeshift assembly. The man who had singlehandedly taken down one of Kasnia's most feared terrorists as well as demonstrated marksmanship that bordered on superhuman. Standing right here in front of them. Mari chuckled at the thought of her cowboy being a celebrity deep in this underground bunker hundreds of thousands of miles away from home.

Well not, _her_ cowboy per se, she reminded herself as he approached. Though with his dark brown hair peeking recklessly out from under the low-angled brim of his cowboy hat, the thought of him being 'her' cowboy held a certain appeal.

"Well that was unexpected," muttered Vig, having escaped his newfound fans. The firing range had now become the most popular section of the training facility, with cadets flocking like moths to a flame.

Mari chuckled. "I have to admit, you had me worried there for a second. Wasn't expecting the theatrics."

The corner of his mouth curled up. "That's what made it half the fun."

"Linski sure didn't seem to appreciate it though," she observed. "Couldn't get away fast enough."

Vigilante shrugged. "Losin' with honor. . .it's a lost art."

"Not that you would know how to do it."

He paused. "Not so sure about that. Linski,, he was easy enough to outshoot. But I'm guessin' things might've gone different if I'd been against Diric."

She frowned. "But you've never even seen him handle a gun."

"Call it gut instinct then. I could tell when Linski finished his set, the guy almost looked disappointed. Teacher to protégé. Diric's got some kinda special forces background, that's for sure. I'm guessin' things would've been a lot more interesting against him."

Mari arched an eyebrow. "Well," she finally said as they made their way toward the sparring mats. "Good thing he's on our side."

* * *

**Capitol Conference Room**

**Illyentov**

"Do you know what the problem with democracy is?" asked Audrey.

Flash sort of straightened up at the question. It was completely out of left field, and not the sort of penetrating philosophical query that was usually posed to him.

Still, there was a silence to be filled. Currently he, the Queen, and two silent members of her security team were waiting inside a large conference room. Others would be joining them soon, but for now the four were the room's only occupants.

"What is the problem with democracy," he repeated. "What kind of question is that?"

"The kind that I've spent the better part of two years worrying over," said Audrey.

"Oh." He shrugged. "Well, I don't think there's anything wrong with democracy. Best system of government I've ever seen." He glanced back to the doorway where the Guardsmen were posted. If they were hearing any of this, they weren't letting on.

Audrey looked over at him, her expression unreadable. "Ancient Athens was a democracy, you know. Brutal, savage at times. But democratic nonetheless."

"Okay," was all he could think to say.

"The Athenians, expansionist as they were, tended to conquer the smaller islands and states around them. They would often force these surrounding collectives into alliances with them, with harsh retaliation for those foolish enough to rebel." She paused. "Well, that was rather unfortunate for the people of Mytilene. It was that rare city that decided to rebel against Athenian rule. And when word reached Athens, the gathered assemblymen were furious. Their anger swelled into a frenzy and in one day they _democratically_ passed a resolution to slaughter every adult male in the city. The women and children were to be sold into slavery. And they dispatched their army that night with orders to carry out the task."

"Ouch," winced Flash, eliciting a short laugh from the queen. "Maybe they should've slept on that one."

"Well, they did," Audrey said. "It dawned on them the next morning how harsh their punishment had been, created in a fit of rage that had long since dissipated. To their credit, they immediately realized the need to avert the disaster that they themselves had put into motion. They sent their fastest seacraft racing to Mytilene, hoping to get their before the army massacred an entire city."

Flash stroked his chin thoughtfully. "And did they succeed?"

"Well, yes. Barely."

"And your question, about democracy. . ."

Her smile grew. "What is the problem with democracy?"

Flash thought for a moment. "The will of the people can be just as tyrannical as the will of a dictator."

"I would agree."

He cocked his head to the side. "But aren't you trying to structure democracy here in Kasnia?"

"Ah, yes. The Democratic Republic of Kasnia. Such a fancy name for a country that is neither a democracy nor a republic." She sighed. "I do want these things for my country, but at what cost? The majority of Kasnians at this point would like nothing more than to see every last Naedi man, woman, and child rounded up and summarily expelled from the country. I want to relingquish this power, this burden that I have inherited. I want to share it with my people. But divided as they are, I fear that they will literally tear this country apart."

"You could always become the Supreme Dictator of Kasnia, impose your iron, yet benevolent will upon the masses," he suggested.

The alarm in her eyes gave way to amusement. "Wit," she remarked. "Who would have guessed."

Wally could and would have responded but at that moment the conference room's doors opened. In walked three men, impeccably dressed in expensive suits. They would have been senators back in the States- Wally recognized the look, even here in Kasnia. These were men of power, leaders. The deference they showed Audrey in their formal bows was a clear sign that they considered themselves subordinate to her. But unhappily so, perhaps. Their irritation was obvious, and matters weren't helped by the fact that he was in the room.

The oldest of the men, distinguished by receding silver hairline and a rakish mustache, was the first to speak. "We did not realize you were entertaining company," he said. "We shall wait until you've concluded your present meeting."

"This _is_ the present meeting, Renoit" Audrey responded matter-of-factly. "My 'company', as you put it, is a highly distinguished member of the Justice League. A founder, even. I've asked him to sit in on this particular talk as a show of good faith to the international community.

Audrey had asked him no such thing, but Wally was quick to play along, masking the surprise he felt. The man whom Audrey had identified as Renoit seemed to be hiding emotions of his own. Insult. Flash could hardly blame him, a man to whom appearances were clearly important forced to discourse with the queen in the presence of a spandex wearing guy like himself (natural all-around charm aside). If Audrey was purposely trying to antagonize these guys, she was doing a hell of a job.

"Very well then," grunted Renoit. "I suppose introductions are necessary then. My name is Jovan Renoit, I am the provincial governor of Kasnia's northern province." The other two men introduced themselves as Sten Ranko and Niel Pleszk, governors of the Eastern and Western provinces respectively. Their brief speaking time ended just as abruptly as it had begun, and Wally was beginning to get the impression that Northern Province was a whole hell of a lot more important than the other ones.

"I gave you all assignments the last time we met," continued Audrey, reminding Wally of his own school days. "Assignments, and a timetable by which you were to complete them. You have not."

Ranko and Pleszk looked toward Renoit, who was glowering at Audrey. "With all due respect, your Highness, these so-called assignments proved highly impractical and difficult to implement."

"By 'difficult', I suppose you mean politically disadvantageous."

Wally's head was on a swivel, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

"For one, we do not have the funds to install the necessary infrastructure-"

"Excuses," Audrey said dismissively. "Your revenue has increased, if anything. The corporate taxes I instituted last year saw to that. And the mountain of scathing letters I've received from some of our more. . .entrepreneurial citizens tells me these reforms are being felt. You have the money, governors. _And_ you have my mandate. Elections to be held by the end of this year. Were you truly concerned with following my vision your respective provinces would already be in the process of nominating candidates. Rather, you lot are too busy hiding mistresses fromm your wives and legislating tax loopholes through which the industrialists you are so fond of can avoid paying their share to this country."

Renoit rose to his feet. "This is outrageous! First you insult us and then insinuate that we have been corrupt in our administration of-"

Audrey's voice was like a steel blade, cutting through the room. "I insinuate nothing, governor. I state the facts as they are. You never had any intention of implementing the reforms I ordered."

"Your father would never have been so naïve," spat Renoit. "Democracy? You've spent too much time with your American friends. And you ask us to grant full citizenship to the Naedi? Preposterous! Those filthy mountain swine spoil what they touch and attack us with impunity as it is. Does your naivete know no bounds?"

Audrey smiled grimly. "Are you done, Jovan?"

Renoit said nothing. The other two governors appeared frozen in their seats. Wally, for his part, was wondering how quickly he could run back to the hotel before anyone noticed he was gone. Things had taken a turn for the decidedly awkward.

Audrey cleared her throat. "Thank you for your candor, Governor Renoit. I feel it is only fair I return the favor. You see, I never liked you. I considered you a relic of a bygone era when my father ruled through corruption and oppression, using thugs like yourself to manage the masses. As if that weren't bad enough, however, you're incompetent to boot. Your illegal dealings, blackmail, extortion, all of it are practically a matter of public knowledge. You don't perform your duties well, your police and provincial troopers are little more than paid goons themselves, and there is simply no place for you in the new Kasnia. Your office is being cleaned as we speak, Renoit, and you may consider yourself terminated from the position of Governor of the Northern Province."

Stunned silence.

She leaned forward. "You may leave, Renoit. You have by the end of the day to declare your resignation, if you wish."

"You bitch!" Renoit roared. Angrily, he threw his chair toward the wall, where it impacted with a loud clatter. "You bring me to this farce of a meeting just to terminate me?"

"It is well within my power as queen," said Audrey calmly. Only Wally had noticed the slight nod she gave her security personnel. Without, Renoit might have found himself gunned down in the blink of an eye.

He laughed. "Well, you will not be queen for long. This nation will tear itself apart, burying you and your ridiculous notions of governance in the rubble. And I will laugh, your highness, as you are left to the wolves!"

Audrey made a mock yawning motion. "How melodramatic. Now I repeat. You may leave."

Angrily and loudly, Jovan Renoit, ex-governor of the Northern Province of Kasnia stormed out, leaving his speechless compatriots to watch as the door shut behind him.

"As word of this gets around," Audrey said to the two governors remaining, "I'm sure I will be accused of making a political point in removing Renoit from office. The accusations will be true. He was disloyal, corrupt, and an impediment to Kasnia's continued progress. If there any doubts as to whether I will tolerate men like him, I hope that today has sufficiently put them to rest."

The two men said nothing for a long moment. Then, the one called Ranko spoke up. "Are we to be dismissed as well, your Highness?"

Audrey shook her head. "No, not as of yet." She paused. "You've seen my agenda, the direction in which I am trying to move this country. Can you support it?"

The men exchanged glances. "Yes, I believe we can."

"We shall see," said Audrey. "If you are sincere in what you profess, then prove it by implementing the measures I have requested. I expect no excuses, but results."

Ranko nodded. "If by some miracle you succeed, I hope you will remember those who supported you," he intoned.

Audrey graced him with a wan smile. "Rest assured, I never forget my friends. Or my enemies." Her tone made it clear that on that ominous note, the meeting had concluded.

Wally could scarcely believe what he had just witnessed.

As Pleszk, the last of the two exited, Auudrey allowed herself to look back at Wally for the first time since the meeting had begun. "This expression you have," she began cautiously. "What does it mean?"

"My expression? Oh, nothing, it's just. . ." he struggled for the words. "You kicked ass right there. I mean, that was _amazing_. And kind of scary, actually. Are you always like that with your subordinates?"

Audrey gave a mirthless laugh. "Well, it has become increasingly necessary as of late. And you can hardly blame them. The government is crawling with puppet bureaucrats installed by my father; hardliners who never learned how to actually put the people first." She laughed again. "They're like vermin."

"Vermin. . ." Wally repeated. "You do have a way with words, your Highness."

"Why thank you."

"You also have a way with using people."

He'd said it so offhandedly that there was a pregnant pause before Audrey's eyes narrowed. "Using people?"

"You wanted me here as a not-so-subtle 'screw you' to Renoit, and the other two if they were thinking about siding with him. I think me bein' here pissed him off even more than what you were saying to him. He looked like he wanted to strangle me with my own guts."

Audrey said nothing so Wally continued. "And so word'll spread and your enemies will get riled up and probably start acting stupid, making it all the easier to get rid of them." He caught her eyes. "That about right?"

"More right than wrong," said Audrey simply. "You resent that I used you." It wasn't a question.

"Actually, I don't," corrected Wally, surprising himself with his answer. "It's who you are." He added after a moment, "It's who you have to be."

Audrey thought to herself, not for the first time, that this man was far more perceptive than he appeared. It was an attractive quality, silly costume or not. In her wilder days, she'd have seen him as a challenge. A potential dalliance. As queen, of course, it was beyond unthinkable.

Well, not quite beyond it.

She had several more meetings and it really was on a whim that she canceled them all. The herd needed to be thinned a bit more, but that wasn't something she needed to do in person. Once was enough for her purposes.

She turned to Wally, a smile forming on its own accord. "I have an idea. Why don't we cut the politics short for now and head over to the Gardenia. There's something I want to show you- something I think you will have a particular appreciation for.

* * *

**Royal Guard Training Facilities**

If the Royal Guard cadets had expected Vigilante to be a one-trick pony, they were in for yet another surprise. His hand to hand combat demonstrations were quick, fluid, and practical. He was holding back quite a bit in the sparring, Mari noted, but then the cadets were far less experienced than him. To her more perceptive eye, it was clear that Greg at full power would be no less than deadly.

Of course, she was no slouch in the hand-to-hand department herself. Together, the Leaguers demonstrated a few basic holds and disarming maneuvers. The training most of these operatives had received was decent, but flawed in more than a few places. It was a good two hours of sweat and work, an Mari relished the opportunity to show off her athletic prowess sans the Totem.

Finally, the training sessions ended and Diric took it upon himself to personally escort the duo back to the main palace. Linski was nowhere to be seen. In fact, he'd made himself pretty scarce ever since the ill-fated marksmanship contest with Vigilante.

"That was surprisingly productive," remarked Diric as they made their way down the quarter-mile corridors leading back to the main wing of the palace. "I admit I was disappointed at first that League had not sent more. . .auspicious members. I can see however that we were fortunate to receive such talented operatives. Even in the short time you had with my officers and trainees I believe they have learned some invaluable lessons."

Mari turned to flash Greg a smile. "Clearly that was more the cowboy than me."

"Oh, but I was still impressed," replied Diric. "I seem to recall you demonstrating a pretty advanced judo hold on one of my best fighters, a man who had at least six inches and a hundred pounds on you. And you didn't even use your powers."

Mari shrugged. "One of the first things we learn is not to rely on our powers. We have to be faster and smarter than the enemy even if for whatever reason we don't have those extra abilities to rely on."

"Nonetheless, your powers are very formidable by all accounts," continued Diric. "Limited flight, regenerative powers, vast superhuman strength and speed. . ."

She palmed the totem that hung around her neck. "I'll have to thank the trickster gods when I see them." It would have sounded like a joke to Diric but Greg knew that it was an African deity who had granted her the talisman in the first place. Beyond that, he wondered if she had ever divulged the origins of her powers to any of the League.

Diric seemed curious. "Are the powers granted solely by the talisman?" he asked.

"Nah," answered Mari. "But I've yet to learn how to activate them without touching the talisman. It amplifies my ability to establish a rapport with the earth's morphogenetic field."

"Fascinating," murmured Diric. He switched focus to Greg who had been silent up until now. "And of course yours skills border on superhuman as well. With a dozen like you this K'Naedi problem would have been eradicated long ago."

"Thanks. . ." muttered Greg. It was subtle but Diric was definitely getting at something.

"In fact, I have a proposal for you," said the Kasnian. "For both of you."

Vixen and Vigilante exchanged curious glances. "What is it?" Mari was the first to ask.

"Simple really. You see, I am in the process of convincing the queen to allow a special detachment of the army under my command to cross into the mountains and root out the K'Naedi forces there. As it is, you see, these bastards strike with impunity, running back to the safety of the mountains where it seems we won't let ourselves pursue them. I intend to destroy their last refuge and put a stop to this madness once and for all." He said it with a conviction that was almost frightening. Still, Mari couldn't help but notice the way he'd phrased the statement.

"You say you're still trying to convince the queen?"

Diric cleared his throat. "Well, yes, you see the queen is reluctant to take the offensive measures necessary to deal with these terrorists. She believes they can be _reasoned_ with.

"And you don't?" Mari pressed.

Diric smirked. "No, I don't. But I have a feeling that she will soon come around to a more. . .practical point of view."

"I wouldn't be so sure," countered Greg as they approached the final hallway to the guest rooms. "She seems like a woman of her convictions."

"Convictions by themselves aren't enough," said the other man. "It is the lesson every ideologue must learn. One way or another."

Mari exchanged another glance with Greg. Their host was certainly interesting. The queen seemed to trust him implicitly, and yet he clearly had a different philosophy on how to stabilize Kasnia than she did. Just how much influence he had on the queen remained to be seen.

"I believe it shouldn't be too difficult to find your quarters from here," said Diric suddenly, interrupting her train of thought. "I have some matters to attend to for the moment, but I'm sure I'll see you at dinner tonight. The royal chef is preparing lamb, one of his specialties from what I hear."

"Wouldn't miss it," Mari assured him. "We'll see you then."

Diric gave a polite and nod and turned back down a different passageway, leaving Greg and Mari alone.

"Do you think Wally's back from whatever he and the queen left to do?" wondered Mari aloud.

"I was wonderin' the same thing," chuckled Greg. "Hopefully not too long. Poor gal might actually start likin' him."

Mari, ever the romantic, fixed him with a questioning look. "And what would be the harm in that? Someone as uptight as her could use a guy like Wally."

Vig threw his hands up defensively. "Hey, more power to 'im then. I'm just sayin' we got invited here to help quiet things down for this special project of hers, not to find the queen a love connection."

"Well, you never know," said Mari. "Anyway, what are you up to for the next couple of hours?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, nap probably. Then go get dinner. You?"

"Same," said Mari. They'd reached her room so she slowed to a halt and turned the knob. "Well I'll see you at dinner then cowboy." Then as an afterthought, "You did good today."

Greg arched an eyebrow at the unexpected compliment. "Thanks."

"See you soon Vig."

"You too Mari."

* * *

Mari was surprised at how well she'd been able to hide the one thing burning on her mind all day: John. The entire time they'd been helping out with Diric's training session, she'd replayed her last conversation with her now ex-boyfriend over and over. Part of her was convinced she'd been too harsh and foolishly thrown away a good thing. The other was sure that the opposite was true and John Stewart should have been on the receiving end of a tongue lashing like that long ago.

If anything, she decided, their parting had not been ideal and she didn't want to leave matters between them on such a sour note. He had said he would be planetside by now so. . .what the hell.

She picked up her cell and dialed the number that she still knew by heart.

* * *

**John Stewart's Apartment**

5,000 miles away, John Stewart's home telephone rang. It was late enough in the morning that he should have been up, but one little known fact about the Green Lantern was that he took his vacation time very seriously. And when he slept in, he slept _in_.

So John Stewart did not answer the shrill ringing of his own phone. Not on the first ring or the second or even the seventh. Under the covers he was sleeping like a baby.

Next to him, Shayera Hol was stirred away by the unholy racket being made by whoever was calling. "John," she mumbled. "Answer it."

She received nothing but light snoring in response. Which would have been cute any other time but under the circumstances she was seriously considering introducing the bedside telephone to her Nth metal mace.

She jabbed him lightly with her elbow. "John!" she hissed. "Wake up!"

If anything, the snoring only intensified.

Muttering a stream of English and Thanagarian invectives, she forced herself to sit up. She reached across his broad frame and yanked the receiver off its cradle.

"Hello," she said.

* * *

On the other end of the line, Mari's heart went numb. She'd expected John's warm baritone rumble, his customary "Hey babe" perhaps. Well, maybe that was a bit too much to ask since she _had_ dumped him.

But this. This voice. . .the hell of it was that she recognized it immediately. Even in from a single, solitary hello. The implications paralyzed her, freezing her words in her throat. Shayera was at John's apartment. Answering his phone. She pictured the Thanagarian next to him, in bed, and she instantly knew that's what it was. Call it women's intuition or instinct but. . .she knew.

There was a click on the other end as Shayera hung up, no doubt having assumed it was prank call or some such thing.

Mari heard a crunching sound that sounded foreign and wrong. She looked down to her astonishment and saw that she'd somehow crushed her own cell phone into sizzling bits of crushed plastic and glass.

With more willpower than she felt like commanding, Mari opened her fingers and allowed the pieces of her ruined device to fall to the ground. The import of the moment was almost enough to take her mind away from the very strong possibility that John had gotten back to together with Shayera. It was the first time she'd ever channeled power from the morphogenetic field without having to touch the talisman.

She sank to the bed, working to keep tears from her eyes. The thought of Shayera with John was like a punch in the gut. How _humiliating_. He'd barely waited a day before. . .

"God_dammit_!" she yelled. She felt pathetic and weak, barely able to keep from falling apart over a man, of all things. A man whose absence from her life she needed to come to terms with. Hell, she thought she already had.

Calming her breaths, she rose to her feet and headed for the closet. Robotically, she changed out of her Vixen uniform and into some nice civvies: black slacks and a red V-necked blouse. The outfit was impeccable as always, but she didn't even bother to check in mirror like usual. She didn't know if what she was about to do was the right move at all, but it was the only one she had. So many colleagues and so few friends. And right now, she needed a friend.

* * *

The song Greg was playing seemed perfectly appropriate at the moment. _As the Sunlight Fades_ was one of his favorite tunes, a slow and relaxing tune with some beautiful chord progressions thrown in. His window open, he could see the sunset in all its glory behind the large hills dozens of miles away. It was a beautiful view and a beautiful song. All he needed was a beautiful girl and it might just be the perfect night, he thought to himself with a silent laugh.

His back was to the door, but his ears worked just fine and he was able to hear the tentative creaking as the door to his room opened. The footsteps, strong yet feminine, and the faint aroma of perfume left little doubt as to who it was.

He stopped mid-strum. "Dinner time already?"

"No," said Mari, stepping all the way inside. "I just. . .kind of needed some company right now. Is that okay?"

He idly strummed aa few more notes and turned around. "Of course it's okay, though I don't know as I'm particularly good company right now."

"That music I heard coming in says otherwise," Mari replied. "It was beautiful."

Greg accepted the compliment with a nod of thanks. "You changed back into civilian clothes," he noted.

She laughed. "Believe it or not, my outfit isn't as comfortable as yours. Glitz and glamour aside, I think I prefer civvies when I can get away with them."

"Right." Greg set the guitar down and patted the space on the bed next to him, an invitation to sit down. "Mari, are you okay?"

Her brow immediately narrowed. "Where did that come from?"

He clasped his hands together.. "You seem different than you did an hour ago, Like you just got some bad news."

"Aww." She playfully tousled his hair. "You're sweet to ask,, Vig. But I'm fine. No bad news on my end."

If he knew she was lying he didn't let on. "Well good."

"You need a haircut," she teased.

"Oh I don't know, I kinda like it longer."

Mari did too, truth be told. She was struck once again by how uncommonly handsome her colleague was. She thought, not for the first time, that it was a shame he kept that face hidden away behind a bandana all the time.

"John and I broke up," she blurted out. "Officially, that is."

He froze, clearly at a loss for words.

"No one really knows, yet," she went on.

"So that's what's been bothering you," he murmured.

"It wasn't exactly pretty."

"I'm. . .sorry."

She pursed her lips. "I'm not. Some things just aren't meant to be, you know?"

He met her eyes. "Well, founding member or not, he definitely got the raw end of that deal."

Mari managed a sad smile. "It doesn't feel like it." Her voice broke on the last word and she realized that brave words or not, she really was devastated by this.

Vig, silent and taciturn, nevertheless seemed to know exactly what to do. He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in for a half-hug which she gladly returned. Because of the way they were sitting, it was a bit awkward. But they made it work.

She could feel his chin on the top of her head. "His loss. Don't ever tell yourself different." His drawl seemed more pronounced, which she liked. She could hear it in his chest, the deep yet reassuring voice that was so different from John's and yet was having the same effect on her.

"You're good at this," she said after a while.

His chest vibrated with silent laughter. "Good at what?"

"Making me feel better." She poked him in the chest. "Don't lose that."

"I'll try not to." Mari went silent again, thinking about the new ways in which she'd started to see Vig. Logic told her that it was just her emotional backlash to everything that had gone on with John. The infamous 'rebound' effect. But that didn't make what she did notice any less real. His intelligence, his subtle sense of humor, the way he spoke carefully, making every word count. He was no Alpha male like John, but then he didn't strive to be.

And this was not the first or the second or even the tenth time she'd found herself comparing the two men recently. Which was crazy because they were nothing alike. And Vig was just a friend.

The embrace ended as the cowboy held her out to arms length, still keeping a hand on her shoulder. "Did you know I was married once?" he asked.

The question was so out of the blue that Mari had to catch herself before she gave an automatic 'yes'. She leaned back incredulously. The next obvious question on the tip of her tongue.

But then the door was flung open. One of the Royal Guardsmen entered in a blur of motion. Breathless. Serious. He looked positively stricken.

Both Leaguers knew at that moment that something was very, very wrong.

* * *

**Krovai Mountains**

**K'Naedi Stronghold**

Viktor never relished taking a life. Not even the lives of the enemy, anymore. The blood on his hands could fill rivers, and the thrill of it had long since faded. Yet, at times, it was necessary.

He looked at the young woman tied to a stake in the center of the K'Naedi compound. The bonds were unnecessary- her dishonor was a shackle far greater than any physical restraint.

Talin. His former protégé. A good soldier, in most all respects. Her potential had been limitless, which made her fall from grace all the more tragic. By disobeying direct orders and ordering a strike team on the visiting Justice League emissaries, she had endangered them all. They'd lost good men and women for nothing, and suffered a devastating blow in the eyes of fellow Kasnians. The gratuitous civilian casualties were insult to injury, and the K'Naedi thus found themselves facing one of the worst PR setbacks in recent memory.

Her crime was treason, and the penalty was death. K'Naedi customs demanded she be stoned until dead, an ancient and brutal practice for the most horrible of crimes. Derelict in her duties or not, Viktor was not willing to inflict that on Talin. She would die with honor.

The gathered crowd was restless, uncomfortable. Talin had no shortage of enemies, even within K'Naedi ranks. But her prowess as a fighter and her dedication to the cause was undisputed. This was not a joyous occasion.

"Talin," He began, his tone somber. The crowd instantly became quiet. "Do you understand the charges against you?"

Her jaw clenched. "Yes."

"And how do you plead?" The question was only a formality. There would be no trial, and the facts of the issue were not in dispute.

"Guilty only of serving the K'Naedi, my countrymen and brothers to the best of my ability," came the terse reply. It was a good answer, thought Viktor. A noble one.

"Talin, you have been found guilty of conspiracy, dereliction of duty, and treason. Your penalty is death."

"I accept it with honor," she said.

Viktor allowed a sad smile. "I know." He stepped closer and withdrew a dagger. Long and thin, with a groove hollowed along the length of the blade between either edge. It was a stabbing weapon and it had taken many lives over the past few decades. Today, it would take one more.

Viktor stepped up to the bound woman positioning the tip of the blade between her lower ribs. When he delivered the killing blow, the dagger would penetrate fabric and flesh and perforate her heart in one surgical strike. She would die on her feet, with a minimum of pain. That was all the concession that he could make.

Except he never delivered the killing blow. For just as he was preparing to execute Talin, a messenger burst through the encircled crowd. "Viktor!" called the boy.

The leader froze and turned, wondering what on earth could be important enough to interrupt this occasion.

And then he learned. And all else was forgotten.

* * *

**Illyentov**

**The Queen's Bridge**

The disaster had been meticulously planned. Explosives, positioned on the support braces of Ilyentov's largest bridge, had been simultaneously detonated. The Queen's Bridge, as it was named, spanned the gap created by Kasnia's only natural river, which marked a sort boundary between Ilyentov and the other townships. For many, it was the only way to access the capital city.

When the bombs went off, the entire structure collapsed. A controlled demolition. Burns, concussive damage, and shrapnel claimed many lives instantly. The unluckier ones found themselves plummeting into the ice cold river waters, followed by tons of concrete and steel. Drowning and hypothermia wreaked a terrible price as well. The screams, it was said, rang louder than the blasts themselves.

The death toll was not known for certain, but early reports claimed that perhaps as many as two hundred were dead, with at least that number wounded. Civilians, women and children dead and dying in the streets. The footage had to be censored before it could even air outside of Kasnia.

It was Kasnia's largest terrorist attack to date.

* * *

Audrey and Wally were en route to the Gardenia when they heard the news. A pane of solid, soundproof glass separated Audrey's driver from the luxury vehicle's occupants. When he received the message, it was body language that told Wally and Audrey something terrible had happened.

The driver pulled to the side of the road after sending in a radio call for backup. Then the glass barrier rolled down. Audrey's doing- she was tired of being left out of the loop.

"What's happened?" she demanded. "Why have we pulled over?"

Then she heard the radio report. Breathless reporters. The cries of wounded and mourning in the background. She listened to the details for a full five minutes in silence.

And she wept.

* * *

**Royal Palace**

**Royal Guard HQ**

Diric watched the carnage live on the Kasnian News Network with the cold dispassion of a man viewing the evening forecast. Perhaps even moreso. The forecast was always a bit of a mystery, after all. And there was nothing about this disaster that surprised Diric Chenkev.

He had planned it after all. The death toll was perhaps a bit high, but not outside of the expected bounds. All in all, it was a success.

"They're blaming it on the K'Naedi already," said Linski from the back of the office. He was cleaning and polishing his signature Desert Eagle handgun, a nervous tic for when he was particularly angry. It wasn't the carnage onscreen that perturbed the other man of course- he was still angry about being humiliated by Vigilante. In many ways, Diric reflected, Linski was more of a psychopath than he was.

He turned the television off. "Good. The more sensationalism the better. The people will be howling for K'Naedi blood after this and even her royal highness can't ignore that. By tomorrow I'll have my strike team assembled with approval from the Queen herself."

Linski methodically inserted the Desert Eagle's, jamming it home with a metallic _chink_!. "What about the Justice League emissaries? They will insist we wait, perhaps even send more outsiders to Kasnia to investigate the matter. Decisive action is critical here."

Diric made a dismissive motion with his hand. "I want our best men gathered tonight. At least half of them should be candidates I handpicked personally. Loyal to me. There should be no delays once the queen gives her authorization."

Linski nodded and moved to exit the office. "And the League?"

"Leave them to me."

* * *

**Author's Note:** This chapter, by the way, is dedicated to Joss Whedon and his Firefly/Serenity series. I've just finished rewatching the complete television series as well as the movie which sort of ties it all up, and I have to say that it's one of my favorite sci-fi franchises of all time. Whedon's writing is great for the same reason that I think Justice League itself was: strong characterization and humor that wasn't overwhelmed by the epic adventures of superheroes (or space cowboys) but rather complemented it.

Plus, Nathan Fillion and Gina Torres, both of whom starred in Firefly, did the voices of Vigilante and Vixen respectively for Justice League unlimited. In fact, it was the Hunter's Moon episode in which they co-starred that gave me the idea of a little chemistry between the two.

Otherwise, hope you enjoyed and sorry for the Long delay. I tried to make the chapter a pretty satisfying length to help make up for that, as well as get our cast of characters more solidified. Don't worry: Less OC's in the future and more solid Justice League action.

Again, hope you all enjoyed, and please R&R. Comments/Criticisms/Thoughts all welcome!

-C


	6. Chapter 6

Diric Chenkev reached for the television remote and pressed the volume button until the sound of the news broadcast filled his office. The death tolls by now were boring. As was the footage obtained from the aftermath. Emergency teams in scuba suits diving into the water and wreckage, bringing up the occasional survivor but far more corpses. Weeping mothers and daughters and husbands and sons. Somber appraisal from whatever so-called expert could be dragged in front of a camera fast enough. The BBC had managed to dredge up some former public official who'd been in office during the infamous London train bombings. CNN had the former Secretary of State spouting off about the aftermath of the September 11 hijackings. Amazing.

Boring, the lot of it. Fortunately, the mindless prattle gave way to startled newscasters abruptly informing the viewers at home that the Queen of Kasnia would be giving an official statement on the devastating bridge bombing momentarily.

_Finally, _Diric thought. He turned the volume up just a little bit higher.

On the screen, Audrey's image was political perfection. Her makeup was subtle, her light-gold hair worn back in an appropriately somber bun. The dark grey of her blazer and skirt spoke to the gravity of the situation while her black-on-red cravat evoked the Kasnian flag, which flew at half-mast behind her. The sky was overcast and the weather chilly but she had still chosen to deliver her remarks outdoors on the steps of the royal palace, a mere half-kilometer from where he now sat. Protocol would normally dictate that and the other members of her staff accompany her, but Audrey had insisted they waste no time in front of the camera and instead get to work immediately on controlling the site of the bridge collapse and investigating the terrorist act. She would face the press alone.

Diric studied her body language, her expression. Tight-lipped and still in the face of flashing cameras and hushed chatter, she betrayed little of either. But he could see the tension. The mounting fury behind her ice blue eyes, only partially blurred by the glistening of unshed tears. The resolute set of her jaw.

_Indulge your anger, my queen. Let it fester. Let it provoke your hand. Let me free this land once and for all. . .first of the Naedi. And then of you._

"My fellow Kasnians," Audrey began. "Today the eyes of the world turn toward us yet again. . ."

Diric watched the speech. The words were heartfelt but predictable. Loss and sorrow, followed by appeals to solidarity and strength. And revenge. Promises of a nation's wrath against the cowards responsible. Though Audrey never spoke of the Naedi, it was clear that she had fallen for the carefully crafted fiction that they were responsible. She was practically seething. Diric's strike force into the mountains would be receiving her blessing any time now. She'd be begging him to root out the 'terrorists' that infested the Kasnian countryside. And he would be more than happy to oblige.

But first, a visit to an old friend.

* * *

**John Stewart's Apartment**

Shayera stepped out of the shower. _John's_ shower. She still couldn't take her mind off of what had happened last night between them and a flutter rippled through her wings at the mere recollection. It had been like rediscovering each other for the first time, mending a bond that had never truly severed in the first place. God, how she had missed this all-too brief period of their lives. A relationship of love and laughter which had been shattered by the arrival of the Thanagarian armada and the revelation of her role as an undercover operative. Not to mention her engagement to Hro Talak.

She stood in front of the mirror, lost in a moment of introspection and memories. Some welcome, some not. The pain and isolation of her departure from the League and abandonment by her own people. The glimmer of hope when she returned, the jealousy and resentment toward Vixen for claiming John as her own.

She wrapped herself in a towel, a smile touching her lips. Last night had not been about the League or the Thanagarians or even Mari McCabe. It had been about John and Shayera. The past, both his and hers, was just that. Past.

Shivering briefly, she walked languidly into the bedroom where John sat upright, his attention riveted to the television screen. A brief flap of wings and she glided to kneel on the bed behind him, her arms encircling his muscular frame, her chin coming to rest just shy of his shoulder.

The fact that John barely diverted his attention should have been her first clue that something was wrong. "Shayera-" he began.

"Shame you couldn't join me in there," Shayera whispered into his ear. He turned his head just a fraction and what she saw in his eyes made her pull back. She let her arms fall to her sides. "John? What is it? What's wrong?"

Rather than answer, he turned up the volume.

"The death toll from the Queen's Bridge explosion has now risen to 205," the CNN reporter was saying. "Here in Kasnia, terrorist attacks have become a staple of everyday life which has only intensified since the current queen's ascendance to the throne. An ascendance which many political analysts said came too soon. Indeed, some have questioned whether Queen Audrey is even fit to rule the highly fractured country. This attack is by far the largest to date and it could not have come at a worse time for the beleaguered queen. Hoping to launch a revolutionary scientific initiative with her Gardenia project, Queen Audrey has already been under heightened scrutiny. Few will forget the short-lived yet lethal grab for power initiated by her then-husband Vandal Savage. A plot which nearly resulted in the destruction of Paris. Already, NATO and United Nations are in talks to unilaterally stabilize the region if the Justice League representatives there are unable-"

Shayera picked up the remote and turned the news report off. "Whatever they know, the League will know more," she said.

"Mari's there."

"So are Wally and Greg. They can handle it."

He stood up, his ring floating up from the bed stand and sliding onto his hand. The pulsing green energy bathed the entire room in a brief luminescent flare before subsiding to reveal John in full Green Lantern uniform. His closed eyes opened to reveal emerald orbs flickering with the ring's power. "I should still go to the Watchtower. In case they need reinforcements quickly."

Shayera reached for her shirt, which lay in a heap on the bedroom's windowsill. "I'll go with you," she said with more nonchalance than she felt. She pulled the shirt over her head and felt John's presence beside her before she saw it.

"I know what you're thinking, Shayera. And this isn't about that. Mari and I are history, she made that perfectly clear. I'm worried about her though. About all of them."

Shayera waved away his words. "John, relax. I'm fine." In truth, she wished she were. She wished she could shake the feeling that Mari wasn't as far in the past as she hoped.

* * *

**Illyentov**

**The Queen's Bridge **

**Ground Zero**

It was all Wally could do not to focus on the carnage that had been wrought as he raced to help survivors and emergency response personnel. In one moment, he was freeing a child trapped in a sinking car; in another he was rushing emergency equipment to paramedics. Far too often however, he found corpses rather than survivors. Many had succumbed to freezing water and no amount of trauma care would help those who had been in the immediate vicinity of the explosives or trapped directly underneath the tons of collapsing concrete and steel.

He took a deep breath and raced out onto the water, moving so fast that he never broke the surface tension of the river. Large dark shapes were everywhere. Mostly vehicles. There were smaller ones as well. Bodies.

He dove ignoring the screaming shock of plunging temperatures. Underwater, the scene was unimaginably more grisly. Corpses rose to the surface, lifeless and inert. Blood from bodies and cars in smoky, crimson wisps. Massive pieces of the bridge formed a labyrinth of rock and metal, all around.

He saw a flicker of motion in the corner of his eye. A minivan, its front bumper crushed between two jagged pieces of concrete from the bridge. The driver, a woman, was slumped in her seat, unconscious or dead. Miraculously, the two children inside were alive. Their faces pressed against the rear window, they stared up in shock and fear as the cab slowly filled with water.

Wally dove further, ignoring the pressure of the water and the hammering of his heart as it struggled to compensate for the crippling cold. His suit protected him to a degree. His powers to a degree more. But he'd have to make this count.

Bracing a foot on the rear bumper of the minivan, he pulled at the trunk's handle with all his might. Nothing. He punched the rear glass, the water resistance making his effort comical and ineffective. The children were staring at him eyes wide with hope or fear or both. He swam deeper to tug at the van's passenger door. No luck. Not in a million years. The pressure difference was too great.

He surfaced, gasping for air. "Mari!" he yelled, keying his suit's communicator. "I need your help!" His voice sounded raspy weak. He'd accidentally swallowed some water on the way up.

Back on the shore, Mari used her eagle vision to scan for Wally. "Survivors?"

"Two. They're trapped in a car pretty deep. I can't free them. The driver might be alive too."

"You take over up here," Mari responded. "I've got it." Even as she said the words, her fingers were brushing her totem. _Pelican. _She'd only used this particular totemic enhancement once before, but it worked in much the same way as her beloved eagle eyes. Her vision sharpened and the pelican's particular affinity for seeing through the choppy ocean waves to hunt its prey took hold. The murky depths of the water seemed to resolve, like a picture coming into focus. So many dead. . .but three alive! She could see Wally, struggling vainly to open the vehicle doors and free the family trapped inside.

She kept the pelican's powers for her dive into the water. Then, at the surface, another animal entirely. A powerful aquatic mammal, evolutionarily suited to chilly waters. She flew through the water with the orca whale's speed and grace and perched beside Wally, searching for purchase on the surface of the minivan. Wally flashed her a thumbs-up and then disappeared in. . .well, in a flash.

Mari pulled, channeling the strength of the orca into her muscles. All she got for her troubles was a broken door handle. By the time the pressure equalized enough to open the door, there would be three more bodies to add to the death toll. The driver was already completely submerged and the children would only be able to keep their heads above the rapidly-rising water for a few more seconds.

_Think, Mari. Think!_

Back on shore, Greg intently stared down at the roiling water. Unlike his teammates, he wore civilian clothes to avoid the contentious cowboy iconism that seemed to be so controversial in Kasnia. He still wore his guns but it was the high-tensile rope that proved most useful, whether in pulling survivors up the steep river embankment or rigging makeshift pulleys to move some of the scattered wreckage on the shore.

He worried briefly for Vixen. Wally had briefed him over the comm. line and he knew that rescuing anyone unfortunate to be trapped underneath the tons of debris that had settled in the water would be a difficult task. Even for Mari.

True to form, Vixen laid his fears to rest in spectacular fashion. She exploded out of the water like a cannonball, an unconscious woman in her arms and two children clinging to her neck. She rose some twenty feet in the air before gliding to a gentle stop at the embankment and handing the rescued civilians off to waiting medical crews. It was an incredible sight, and he was reminded once again just how powerful Mari could be.

"Impressive trick flyin' out of the water like that," he said. "Dolphin?

She smiled, brushing a wet strand of hair out of her eyes. "Exocoetidae. The flying fish." the smile disappeared when Mr. Terrific's voice crackled in her earpiece. "Vixen, Vigilante, Flash. Report."

"Turn on the news," Vigilante interjected sardonically. "You'll figure it out soon enough."

"Vig," Mari murmured, a soft reprimand. "She cleared her throat. "It's a terrorist attack, just like Audrey said. Bombs were planted on the Queen's bridge during peak traffic hours. I'm sure you know the rest. We're pulling out as many as we can from the wreckage but most of the time it's just so we can identify corpses."

"What does the Queen plan to do?" The low baritone was instantly recognizable as John Stewart, and Mari found herself momentarily speechless.

Luckily, Vigilante was able to pick up smoothly. "We're supposed to meet with her in a bit. My guess, she's gonna send some military forces into the mountains to go after the rebels hidin' in the villages up there."

Vigilante saw the look of pure discomfort on Mari's face and mouthed, _You okay?_

Mari gave a curt nod, keying in her earpiece to reenter the conversation. "We don't know much of anything yet, but as soon as we do we will report to you, J'onn."

"Mari, we can send more Leaguers if you need them." John again.

"A horrible idea," Mari retorted flatly. "The last thing the queen needs to be seen as doing is bringing in more interlopers. Vig, Flash, and I have things under control here. Vixen out." She closed the comm. line and Vigilante followed suit. The red-and-yellow blur that would sooner or later resolve itself into Wally didn't seem to slow in the slightest, indicating that the speedster probably hadn't even been listening.

Vig looked at her, feeling a fleeting moment of sympathy for the Green Lantern. He still didn't know what John Stewart had done to deserve Mari's wrath but he didn't envy the man. Vixen had a way of sharpening her words with ire that could cut straight to the bone.

The whoosh of displaced air next to them indicated Wally's arrival. His uniform was caked with blood and dirt and who knew what else, but somehow his trademark smile remained fully in place. "Good job with the rescue," he congratulated Vixen. "Another minute and those people would be in body bags right now."

"Hey, it's what we do." She turned to Greg. "Do you really think the Queen will let Diric attack the Naedi?"

The cowboy shrugged. "Can't see how she can afford not to, after today."

Wally was shaking his head. "But we don't even know who's responsible yet."

"Well the people of Kasnia certainly think they do," Greg responded. "I was talkin' with some of the paramedics earlier, helpin get the wounded into ambulances and whatnot. They're thinking it's gotta be the K'Naedi. And the way it sounds, the whole damn country's out for blood.

* * *

**Illyentov**

**Royal Palace**

**War Room**

When the original royal palace had been destroyed by Vandal Savage's rail gun, nary a brick lay unturned. Aboveground, at least. The underground passageways which Savage had converted into his personal command center remained surprisingly intact. Moreso, they had been remodeled into an underground bunker which was connected to the Royal Guard compound buried even deeper into the earth via those same tunnels.

The War Room, as it was colloquially known, currently seated four people. Vixen, Vigilante, Flash, and Diric. When Audrey entered, the other four rose. The fifth and final member of this impromptu meeting had arrived.

"Your highness, I have brought our guests as you requested," Diric said, bowing briefly before returning to his seat at the large round table. A massive furnishing, it sat at the center of an upraised dais in the cavernous compound and housed a powerful hologram projector which could display any necessary graphics in crisp, vivid 3D. Currently, rotating screens displayed the muted reports of major news agencies around the world. When Audrey took her seat, she pressed a button on the armrest and the images flickered out of existence. The single overhead light cast the room in deep shadows which somehow seemed appropriate, given the circumstances.

Audrey looked weathered. Drained. She still wore her dark grey blazer and skirt, but the cravat at her throat was loosened and wrinkled. Her skin was pale and the dark circles under her eyes were only just starting to form. She had clearly been crying a great deal.

Sitting next to her, Wally reached out a hand and laid it gently over hers on the armrest. It was an impulsive move that he instantly regretted, though to his surprise she did not pull her hand away. Rather, she clasped her fingers briefly in his and met his eyes with her own in a profoundly intimate moment before reclaiming her hand and turning to address the others.

"Thank you, Diric," she began. "And thank you, Flash, Vigilante, and Vixen, for coming. We. . .clearly have much to discuss and I seek your counsel as representatives of the Justice League."

"We'll certainly do our best, ma'am." Vigilante said.

Audrey pursed her lips. "I want to show you all something." She pressed the button which controlled the central holographic display, and immediate an array of digital screens materialized, each depicting the same scene. Throngs of Kasnian citizens protesting angrily outside of the palace. They seemed to be gathered at the front where Audrey's press conference had taken place mere hours earlier. While the Royal Guard had managed to establish a perimeter around the palace, it was clear the crowd had no intention of going anywhere.

"Why are they all yelling up at that balcony?" Vixen wanted to know.

Audrey gave a wry laugh. "They think that's where I am. The queen of the people. They want me to step out and promise the heads of the K'Naedi on a pike."

"Which brings us to the issue at hand," Diric interjected smoothly. "We are ideally situated to strike at the heart of the entire K'Naedi organization. The nerve center of this despicable collective lies in the mountains, currying the favor and materiel support of the village folk while remaining in the shadows. Thanks to the efforts of you Leaguers, those shadows have been brought into the light. The terrorists you captured have divulged the location of the K'Naedi home base and, in the light of this recent calamity, not a moment too soon. I have tried for some time now to gain the Queen's blessing for an incursion into the mountains. My Royal Guard has trained for such a mission for months now. With your help, we can root out the K'Naedi once and for all and bring the perpetrators of this heinous act to justice." He paused, catching his breath. "We can ensure that an attack like this never happens again."

"Thank you, Diric." Audrey pensively steepled her fingers. "This is a fair summation of what Diric proposes. He has requested permission to launch this 'incursion' before, permission which I have denied. It has been my sense that a military presence in the mountains will only serve to further alienate the Naedi. As for the K'Naedi guerillas, the mountains are home to them and no amount of training can prepare my Royal Guard for the reality of combat in such conditions. I fear the rate of attrition we would suffer could be monumental."

Vixen crossed her arms. "But?"

"_But. _Obviously, the situation has changed. The K'Naedi are very likely responsible for this attack and I cannot allow such an affront to go unchallenged. So, I will authorize this strike force of yours, Diric."

He smiled. "This is the right decision, my queen. I will not fail you."

Unfazed, Audrey continued. "You will take the League members with you, and your men will answer to them as they do to you. I want you to be prepared for the worst."

Diric's smile deepened. "I wouldn't have it any other way. Assuming, of course, that our guests are willing to accompany my Royal Guard."

"We are," Vixen said boldly. "But we're not Kasnian soldiers. We are members of the Justice League and we don't intend to permit any violations of international law on _either_ side of this conflict."

"Naturally," Diric replied smoothly. "There is one last matter to discuss, however. This young Naedi girl-"

"Sofia," Audrey said thinly. "Her name is Sofia. What of it?"

"I merely question whether it is wise for her to live here in the palace, particularly in light of recent events."

Flash was already shaking his head. "That girl saved Audrey's life, man. Mine too."

"She's Naedi-"

"She's not up for discussion." Audrey's tone was regal and uncompromising. "You are my military advisor and in such matters I trust your counsel implicitly. But you are not to speak ill of the girl. Am I understood?"

Diric's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. "Yes, my queen."

* * *

**Royal Guard Training Facilities**

"Three hundred men," Diric announced to the assembled strike force. Linski stood to his left, while Vigilante and Vixen stood to his right, fully costumed and at attention. "Three hundred men to march against the thousands of the mountain savages who dared strike at our home and threaten our peace and security. We march for the men and women and children who were slaughtered in the terrorist attack on the Queen's Bridge. Their blood cries out for vengeance and we are the instrument of that vengeance. A finely honed scalpel to excise a cancer that we have allowed to fester in the Naedi mountains for far. too. long!

"Where's Wally?" Mari whispered to Greg as thunderous applause drowned out Diric's next words.

"Beats me. Maybe he didn't feel like being a stage prop today," he muttered.

Mari chuckled despite herself. "Aww, but you make such a cute stage prop, cowboy."

"Three hundred men!" Diric roared again. "Our strike will be lethal. It will shatter the mountains and split the waters. It will be _decisive. _So rest well tonight, gentlemen. We march at dawn."

Amidst the applause and hoo-rahs, Vigilante let out a sigh of relief. Leaning close so Mari could hear him, he whispered, "I was half scared he'd want us to make a speech or something."

Mari was about to respond when one of the soldiers came up to her, beaming. He held a magazine, well-used, with a glossy photo of none other than Vixen on the cover. Mari remembered the photo shoot from her last visit to Kasnia years ago. In the image she was nude, coiled into a seductive pose that artfully concealed what it needed to and nothing more. A fearsome tiger prowled right next to her, its tail brushing her arm.

She had to struggle not to laugh. She remembered the picture and the photo shoot, and how tacky she'd thought the whole thing was. She'd gotten along with the tiger pretty well, though the same couldn't be said for the photographers and crew. The cover, an international hit, hadn't even been printed in the US and she'd forgotten all about it until now.

She held up the magazine cover. "Autograph?"

The soldier nodded excitedly. "Yes, please."

"Sure, why not." She took the proffered pen and graced the bottom right of the magazine cover with her signature. As she handed the magazine back, she turned to Vig and noticed that he was blushing crimson.

Mari smirked. "I can get you a copy if you want one, cowboy."

He turned an even brighter red. "I don't. I mean, I wasn't . . .you know."

"Checking me out?"

"Yeah."

"Huh." Strangely emboldened, Mari winked at him. "That's too bad." Where the overt flirtation had come from, she still didn't fully understand. But for some reason, she loved the fact that she'd inadvertently rendered the cowboy at a loss for words. Male admiration was nothing new to her but with Vig it was different. Appreciated, for one thing. Reciprocated, for another.

Their eyes met and she could see the desire flickering behind them. But it wasn't just that. He looked at her as if she were most amazing person in the world. As if he couldn't tear his eyes away. It made her heart do funny little flips in her chest.

But tear his eyes away he did, and the real world collapsed their brief, intimate bubble as more soldiers streamed around them to discuss the impending incursion into K'Naedi territory. She tried to catch his gaze again but he seemed agitated, at what had happened between them and she didn't even know if she felt the same. All she knew was that this blossoming awareness between them would change everything. That it probably already had.

* * *

**Queen's Royal Quarters**

Audrey knocked lightly on the guest room door. "Sofia? Sofia are you in there?"

A pregnant pause. Then, "yes."

"May I come in?"

"You're the queen." Audrey would have to be deaf to miss the biting edge to the young girl's words. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped inside.

Sofia was not on the bed as she'd expected. Rather, she'd taken a cross-legged position on the floor, leaning back against the massive bed frame. Her eyes were puffy and red, symptoms that Audrey recognized from her own time in the mirror that day. The girl had been crying.

Unsure of what to do Audrey settled for kneeling, then sitting down next to Sofia. Neither said a word for what seemed like ages until Audrey broke the silence. "This must be a lot for you."

The girl's cheek twitched. "Because I'm Naedi?"

"That's not what I-"

"Yes it is." Sofia's eyes met hers. "I'm Naedi, and so were the people who blew up that bridge. That's what you're getting at, right?"

Audrey was already shaking her head. "The people responsible for that are terrorists. Pure and simple. I don't think you have anything in common with them at all. You've saved lives. Mine, in fact. These people don't save lives, they destroy them."

"So you're gonna destroy them, right. Kill them. Send your army and your superhero friends to-"

"The perpetrators will be brought to justice," Audrey said firmly. She laid a hand on the girl's arm. "But you don't need to worry about that. I wish you wouldn't." Wisely, she left out the last part of her thought. _You're just a child._

It was Sofia's turn to shake her head, though she did not pull her arm away. "The Naedi are my people. How can you tell me not to worry about them?"

Audrey sighed. "I suppose I can't. But remember, the Naedi are my people too. We are_ all _Kasnians, despite our differences."

"Does your military guy feel the same way?"

"Military guy?"

Sofia rolled her eyes. "You know, big muscles, lotta scars, mean eyes."

Audrey laughed. "I believe you mean Diric. He can be rather aggressive at times and he might not be the biggest fan of the Naedi, but he is a loyal soldier." She nudged Sofia with her shoulder, trying for a bit of levity. "You worry about so many things for such a little girl. Keep that up and you'll be covered in gray hair and wrinkles by the time you're my age."

Sofia smiled, despite herself. "And what age is that again?"

"Ha!"Audrey shook her head. "I don't think so." She rose to her feet, extending a helping hand to Sofia. "I must go attend to my other guests now," she said. "Do you need anything brought to your room?"

Sofia shook her head. "This is. . .more than enough."

Audrey reached out to give the young girl a hug, surprised when she returned the embrace. "You are always welcome here, Sofia," she said firmly. "And that hasn't changed."

* * *

Vigilante stood alone in the cavernous expanse of the Royal Guard training facilities. It was late, and all of the other soldiers were probably asleep, getting rested for the trek into the mountains the following morning.

Vig enjoyed sleep as much as the next guy, but he was slightly worried about the lack of practice on a gun range since arriving in Kasnia. Preternatural accuracy with his six-guns was the closest thing he had to a superpower, and even that for only as long as he could keep his skills sharp.

The wicked lightning cracks of discharged rounds filled the air for three hours as he put nearly a thousand bullets into the practice targets at the far end of the range. By his estimation, his quickdraw had deteriorated by a decisecond and his clusters weren't quite as tight as they had been. But he could still put some of the most lethal hand-wielded ordnance in the world into a target the size of a peach from rifle range, and he could do it between the ticks of a second hand.

Finally satisfied, Vigilante holstered his six-guns and took the express lift back to the League's living quarters. The lights were out, but he was able to navigate the labyrinthine hallways through a combination of memory and bumping into furniture every few seconds. He finally made it to what he thought was his room, which made the fact that it was locked very mysterious indeed.

He tried the knob again, rattling the door before belatedly realizing that was not in fact his room.

Footsteps, then the _click _of a latch being opened and the door swung inward. The amount of light inside the room was negligible- just the barely perceptible glow of a smartphone charging dock. All the better to frame Mari's admittedly enticing silhouette in the doorway.

"Greg?" she whispered. He couldn't make out her face in the darkness but he could certainly picture the confusion etched across it. "Is that you?"

"Mari, I'm so sorry I thought this was my room-"

"What are you doing up?"

He went for a smile, not that she would be able to see it anyway. "Just practicing at the range."

"Couldn't sleep?" Her voice wasn't quite a whisper anymore.

"I guess not."

"Me either."

He could picture the corners of her mouth turning up into that beautiful smile. He wished he could see her face. "I uh, got kinda turned around coming up here."

'Hmm," said Mari. "And you came straight to my room?"

"I thought it was mine," Vig protested. "It's like midnight under a blanket out there."

Mari chuckled at the turn of phrase. "You're right, cowboy. I can't even see you. He felt something brush his chest. Her hand? "Though I bet you're still wearing that ridiculous bandana." Her hand came up to the trademark neckwear that usually concealed the majority of his features. Her finger curled into the material and she slid it down, her knuckles softly grazing his chin.

_Mari! _a voice that could only be her better judgment screamed in her head. _What are you doing?! _Truth be told, she had no idea. It just seemed like some sort of fate that she'd spent a sleepless night thinking about Greg of all people, and he should happen to show up at her door like a gift from the gods of Unfulfilled Fantasies.

She put a hand on his chest to push herself away and back into something resembling sanity, but she never quite got to the pushing away part. Especially when she felt his hands rest on her hips and pull her a fraction of an inch closer. She felt a surge of desire that she'd never thought she'd feel with anyone other than John Stewart. Yet the rush was unmistakable. And he smelled good. Masculine and rugged, like a Montana ranch that had suddenly sprung to life an ocean away.

"Can you see me now?" he asked, his drawl lower and more intense than usual.

_Oh hell, Mari. Just give in. _"Seeing's overrated, cowboy," she said, even as her arms snaked around the back of his neck and her mouth came up in search of his. Their noses brushed first and her grip tightened and his hands pulled her even closer and their mouths met at last in a kiss neither of them would ever forget.

Greg couldn't believe it. He wasn't sure who had kissed who and he wasn't sure he cared because at that moment, he was the happiest he'd been in a long, long time. Her body seemed to meld into his and he couldn't help but notice the fact that the sheer material of her sleepwear left virtually nothing to the imagination. He could feel the warmth of her skin and the arch of her back and the low moan of approval she gave when he trailed his fingers along the curve of her spine.

Somehow, they'd ended up in the bedroom, the door slamming behind them. His hat was somewhere on the floor outside. Her nimble fingers had undone most of the buttons on the front of his shirt, and his kisses had strayed from her mouth to the hollow of her neck. "Vig," she whispered into his hair, her breath coming in short gasps. Everything about him was driving her wild. She felt the back of her knees hit the side of the bed and she didn't even resist the momentum, bringing him with her over the edge. She wrapped her legs around him and torqued her body so that she was on top, leaving the cowboy stunned at her strength.

"I want you," she said, straddling him, her hands tracing the outline of his chest. She let her palms linger on the broad expanse of muscle underneath his shirt. Her eyes had adjusted enough that she could make out the faint outline of him underneath her and while she knew she had to stop, it seemed that she had long since ceded control of her body to its desires.

He caught her hands in his and pulled just enough to bring her head to his level, kissing her yet again. "I want you too, Mari."

She smiled, her words not quite breaking their kisses. "I can tell." And she could. That wasn't exactly a six-gun in his pocket. Her better judgment piped up, _It's not too late to put a stop to this. You barely just broke up with John, for Chrissakes! And what about your friendship with Vig?_

Mari deftly flicked the clasp of his belt open. This was about the here and now. And right here, right now, she wanted, no, _needed _this. John and her better judgment be damned.

Vig, for his part, needed no further encouraging. He brought his hands up her body and to the straps of her nightgown, hooking his thumb underneath and sliding them off her shoulders. She helped, shrugging herself out of the garment and revealing what men all over the world had dreamed about from the day she reached stardom as a supermodel. Even in the near-dark, Vig could see enough to make his eyes nearly bug out of his head. God, she was beautiful. His whole body felt like it was. . .vibrating?

Until Mari cut him out of his reverie. "Vig, is that your phone?"

Phone? What phone? Who cared about- "Oh! My phone." _Who the hell could be calling at a time like this?_ He fished the device out of his pocket and thumbed it on without glancing at the caller ID screen. The gadget's powerful backlight illuminated Mari in the best way possible. She was literally breathtaking.

"Hello," he half-gasped into the receiver.

John Stewart's voice replied, "Greg, this is John." No speakerphone, but Mari was close enough to hear everything. Her jaw dropped open like a marionette with its strings cut.

"Uh, J-John Stewart?" Vigilante managed to squeak out.

"Yeah, John Stewart. Green Lantern. Listen man, I know it's late over there but I've been trying to get in contact with Mari and her phone is off or something. I just wanted to make sure she was okay. You know, unofficially."

"I'm-I'm sure she's fine."

"Do you have her room number?"

"I-" He looked at Mari, whose nostrils flared in mortification. She gave a terse shake of her head. "Listen, John, why not just use her League communicator to contact her?"

"Because those calls are monitored and I'm calling on a more social basis," John said. "I mean, do you know if her phone is working at all?"

"No. I mean, I don't know if-"

"Well just. . ." The Green Lantern sighed. "Just tell her to call me whenever you see her, okay."

Greg stared mutely at his phone as the call ended and the screen flickered back into rest mode. He had no words, and apparently neither did Mari. The silence seemed interminable, stretching on as they sat there on her bed.

Mari finally cleared her throat and moved, the sound of her slipping back into her nightgown unmistakable. Greg sat up fully and tried to turn in her general direction. He could see the shape of her as it passed in front of glowing charging dock on her desk. He wanted to touch her but it seemed as if a brick wall had suddenly sprung up between them.

"This was a mistake," Mari said quietly. "I'm so sorry Greg-"

"You don't have to apologize," he interrupted stunned that she was attempting to at all.

"I do, she said. I'm just. . .I'm still recovering from how things ended with John and you and I have grown so close ever since we got here. . ." she sighed. "I don't know what I was thinking."

Vig didn't want to ask the question on his mind, but he couldn't stop himself. "Are you still in love with him?"

It was the kind of question that silence answered just as well as words. And as she struggled to come up with an answer, the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach grew. He was just a friend. A friend and a convenient distraction from the man she really loved.

"I don't know," Mari said at last.

But he was already standing up. Collecting himself and preparing to leave. "That's all the answer I need, darlin'," he replied. "You were right. This was a mistake. It won't happen again."

The lack of emotion in his words stung like a verbal slap. It was all the worse for not being able to see him. Though to be fair, it wasn't as if she was in any condition to meet his eyes right now. The worst part was that she could tell she'd hurt him. Deeply. And she had no idea how to get things back to the way they were. Hell, she didn't know if she wanted them to just be the way they were.

Greg picked up his hat and felt his way to the doorway. He opened the door and, without turning around, said, "I'll see you in the morning, Mari. Good night."

"Good night, Greg." Mari ran a hand across her eyes, brushing away something that felt suspiciously like a tear. She fell back on the bed, willing herself to go to sleep and forget all about the last ten minutes.

She should have known better.

* * *

**Illyentov**

**Custom Detention Facility**

**Cell Block Omega**

Deep underground, far past where even the rail gun's colossal meteorite attack had penetrated, Diric Chenkev sat in a prison that had been designed to hold one man.

That man sat across from Diric, a simple card table separating the two. A chessboard sat atop the table and some four feet above that, a single light bulb hung from the ceiling, naked and flickering as it jerked in its tiny little arcs. He wore a white straitjacket with the right sleeve undone to allow him use of the arm. His large frame strained the seams of the restrictive garment, but his brooding eyes, hooded by a pronounced brow ridge, betrayed nothing.

His name was Vandal Savage and he was the most infamous criminal in all of Kasnia.

"Check" Diric said boredly, releasing his hand from a rook that had just eliminated Savage's only remaining bishop.

Savage arched an eyebrow, then struck back with a pawn that cleared Diric's rook. "You're playing like a madman."

"Perhaps." Diric moved a wing pawn. "But I intend to win."

Savage studied the (much) younger man carefully. "Games aside, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"Pleasure?" Diric repeated. The wording was laughable given that he had been tasked by the Queen with testing the limits of Vandal Savage's preternatural recuperative abilities. This was no small undertaking, as Savage had literally survived a meteor crash, practically on top of his head. He'd crawled out of the rubble and reassumed full physical integrity within an hour.

Diric had relished the assignment at first. A loyal supporter of the late king, he was more than happy to take out his sadistic proclivities on the man who had killed him. And he had tried everything. First, the obvious. Cutting, stabbing slashing. These all proved mysteriously ineffective. Vandal Savage, though not immune to pain, refused to utter even the smallest cry of agony as his flesh was butchered and filleted under Diric's knives. Of course, no matter how heinous, the wounds would heal almost instantaneously, like a force of nature. The more serious the injury, the faster they healed. Beheading was useless, and Diric had been personally witness to the severed spine sprouting a brain stem, branching into a skull, muscle and skin slithering back into place as if by magic.

Then, more creative solutions. Asphyxiation via drowning. Also to no avail. Diric's scientists were of the opinion that Savage's body could, if necessary, leach oxygen from the water itself to sustain function. An airlock was used, and for a moment Diric thought he had finally killed the immortal man. But what seemed to be death was merely some sort of hyperstasis which the scientists estimated could last for years without permanent irreversibility.

Burning, electrocution, freezing, crushing. . .they all yielded the same maddening results. It was impossible to kill Vandal Savage and keep him that way. His body would always seek to reconstitute itself and there seemed to be no practical limit as to what it could recover from.

So Diric had abandoned his efforts and decided that perhaps Vandal Savage could be more useful alive than dead. It was common knowledge that a remnant of Savage loyalists remained in the Royal Guard, as well as most other offices of government. If they ever tried to free Savage or in any other way betray Diric, they would be rooted out and executed of course. But they were there and to that degree Diric needed them.

He advanced a pawn. "To what do you owe this pleasure," he repeated. "Well, it's simple really-"

"You plan to murder the queen, kill the Justice League members currently in Kasnia, and eliminate the Naedi villages in the mountains," Savage said matter-of-factly.

Diric stiffened, his jaw clenching. "How could you possibly know that?"

The Immortal Man rolled his eyes. "Please. There is little in Kasnia that evades my notice. Your clumsy machinations certainly do not." He claimed Diric's pawn.

"You could have told the Queen, exposed me."

"And I still could," Vandal Savage reminded him. "But I find I'm not inclined to. While it's true that you've made my stay in Kasnian prison thoroughly unpleasant, I assure you that I've suffered far, far worse. You are the first and certainly not the cleverest person to attempt to kill me. You won't be the last." He paused, a cold smile carving itself out in the hard angles of his face. "Besides, young Diric. While I dislike you, I find that I despise that whore queen more and more with every passing day. I should like very much to see her cast off of the throne. Though I would hate for you to kill her. The tortures I've in store for that spoiled whelp would put your little knives to shame.

Diric chuckled. "It seems that our interests are aligned then, for the moment."

"And you want my spies to support your coup."

"Precisely."

"What do you have to offer in return, young Diric?"

"Well. When I am the ruler of Kasnia you will be freed from this place."

Vandal Savage shook his head. "Close, but not enough. I want Audrey. Alive." He moved, taking Diric's queen with his bishop.

"That can be arranged."

"Then we have a deal."

Diric didn't believe for one second that Savage wouldn't try to double-cross as soon as it was expedient to do so, but he was glad for the nominal alliance at least. Having the support of the Vandal Savage loyalists in his ranks would let him sleep much easier in the coming nights. He flicked his king into place. "Checkmate, incidentally."

Savage's eyes registered a rare expression: confusion. His eyes scanned the board, confirming Diric's words. "I must admit, I'm impressed. I was set to beat you within a move."

"It's called the Kasnian Gambit," Diric said, rising to his feet. He folded the chessboard back into its carrying case. "I'm afraid I can't be arsed to explain the stratagem wholesale, but I thought it rather appropriate."

"Sacrificing your queen like that," Savage murmured, even as guards came in to secure his arms fully into the straitjacket. "Almost clever."

"You have no idea."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Since starting grad school, I've mostly put my fanfiction writing on a hiatus. It is one of my favorite hobbies though and since I'll have considerably more free time this summer, I plan to finish the stories I've started so far (assuming that people still read them). If you have read this chapter and the ones before it, thank you very much. I'd love to know what you think, and any comments or critiques are welcome.

-C


	7. Chapter 7

**Royal Palace**

**Mari's Quarters**

Mari woke up tired and irritated, both a result of the restless dreams that had plagued her all night. John and Greg: the first man she'd ever truly loved, and the man she was helplessly falling in love with. Her dreams were not quite nightmares but they hardly served to quell the conflicting emotions roiling within her. From the hurt and anger she felt toward John to the guilt and recrimination that gnawed at her ever since her late night rendezvous with Greg.

She showered and brushed her teeth, the steamy film on the mirror rapidly disappearing to reveal a vision of herself that looked about as bad as she felt. Her short hair, usually a breeze to manage, was sticking out all over the place in unruly tufts. The dark circles under her eyes were another unwelcome surprise, and she supposed she should count herself lucky that the single gray hair she'd discovered a few weeks ago seemed to be a one-off occurrence.

Not, she rationalized, that anyone on the strike force would particularly care how glamorous she looked. Given that her 'day job' revolved completely around her appearance, she often had to remind herself that in the League, she was valued for her training and her abilities. Not her looks.

She recalled Mr. Terrific advice from before the mission. _Kasnia can get pretty cold this time of year. _So she selected a warm, yet stylish marine overcoat to go with her costume. The garment was a custom design, outfitted with several hidden compartments for food rations, fire starters, and flares. _Call me anything but don't call me unprepared._

For some reason, her mental voice had started to take on the cadence of Greg's deep southern drawl. Which was just great. As if things weren't going to be awkward enough between them. At least, she reasoned, she would have Wally as a buffer.

She splashed a final handful of water on her face, taking a deep breath. "You got this, girl," she said out loud. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and hoped that she hadn't just told herself another lie.

* * *

The strike force had been held at the ready for some time, and so Greg supposed he shouldn't be surprised that by noon that morning all three hundred men and women were packed and prepared for a voyage into the mountains. There would be one heavy armor, a Russian-made BTR-T tank outfitted with a 2A42 autocannon and an upraised machine gun turret. According to a particularly chatty engineer, the tank was far better suited to urban environments than the forests to which the Naedi laid claim. Still, it was a far sight better than any attack vehicles the K'Naedi would be able to bring to bear. Not to mention that the tank would be accompanied by a trio of the infamous Soviet 'Hind' helicopters. The eight-passenger attack aircraft were each armed to the teeth and would be flying overwatch for the mission.

All in all, not bad Greg supposed. Between the heavy armor, the choppers, and the transport jeeps they would make short time of the travel into the mountains. The ordinance wasn't exactly state-of-the-art, but it would leave whatever weapons any hostile K'Naedi forces managed to cobble together in the dust. He was concerned about the vulnerability of the Hinds to anti-aircraft fire, especially given report of the K'Naedi rebels' proficiency with RPGs and ground to air machine guns. Voicing those concerns, however, he'd been politely told by Diric that his role was advisory in nature and that his pilots knew how to defend themselves.

In all, it seemed a very serious operation. Impressive, even. The only question was whether these urban troops would be able to adapt-

"Oof!" Vig realized that in his contemplations he'd walked headlong into the person he'd hoped to avoid for as long as possible. At the edge of the troop formation, he'd assumed, wrongly, that he'd be alone.

Mari fixed him with her liquid brown eyes, searching out his with a look of surprise and embarrassment that probably mirrored his own. She looked amazing, of course. As usual. Her short, windswept hair framed her fine-boned features perfectly, and Greg felt a surge of attraction worm its way into the volatile emotional mix.

"Hey," he said, rocking back on his heels and jamming his hands deep into his pockets. A completely inadequate greeting, all things considered, but he had no idea what else to say.

Mari wore an expression halfway between a forced smile and a frown. "Hey, Greg." She seemed to decide that more conversation was necessary, despite the awkwardness. "Kinda chilly, huh."

Greg blinked in surprise.

"The weather, I mean."

"Right. Yeah, of course," he agreed noncommittally. His gaze had dropped from hers and he couldn't bring himself to meet it again. "Nighttime is when the temperatures are really going to start to plunge."

She turned toward the foreboding expanse of forest ahead. Even in the sunlight, the thick canopy kept the terrain in a night-like shade. "Do you think they're expecting us?"

"They'd be complete idiots not to. Besides, we're going into their territory. They'll see us coming from miles away."

"Wally should come in handy for that," she said. Then, as if just realizing the speedster's absence, "Where is he anyway?"

* * *

**Illyentov**

**Kasnian Royal Palace**

**Capitol Conference Room**

Audrey arrived at her office suite with a throbbing headache and jitters from her morning coffee. A secretary waiting outside gave her a sheaf of papers she knew she would ignore for the day, and she entered her glorified office without the slightest clue of how she would get anything accomplished.

For better or for worse, her strike team had been deployed. Among other things, it would mean more bloodshed. More loss. More resentment. She felt as if her dream of a united Kasnia were slowly crumbling in front of her eyes, and the more she tried to put it back together the faster it fell apart. Her father, for all of his flaws, had never been wracked with such uncertainty, such hesitance. She didn't know if it made her a better or a worse leader but she did know that she had never felt so alone.

A knock at the door startled her, a surprise since she'd given the secretary explicit instructions that she was not to be disturbed. "Who is it?" she snapped more irritably than necessary as she moved toward the door.

"What's red and gold and awesome all over?" came a familiar voice.

"Wally?!" She opened the door.

"Bingo," said the Flash, dressed in full uniform save that his mask was pulled back to his reveal his boyish features.

She was at once happy, confused, and irritated to see him. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I've decided to stay."

"Come again?" an American phrase she'd picked up from a secret obsession with their primetime soaps.

"Your best security forces are out trekking in the forest," he said. "Along with two experienced members of the League. I figure you need someone here to keep an eye on things."

"Mr. West, _I _am the one who 'keeps an eye on things'."

"But you could still use my help." In the blink of an eye he was impishly sitting on her desk, feet dangling off the ground like an insouciant schoolboy. She found herself inexplicably charmed despite herself.

She cocked her head to the side as she strode around to the other side of her desk, taking a seat in the designer chair that awaited her. Flash obligingly slid off of her desk, though he didn't take a seat at one of the nearby chairs. "I could use your help," she replied. "Out in the forest where the bad guys are."

Flash, momentarily distracted by her accent (which he found adorable) took a moment to come up with a reply. "All due respect, your majesty, there's bad guys here too. Those K'Naedi assassins that ambushed us earlier had help. _Inside_ help.

Audrey's eyes flickered downward. "I have been thinking about this," she admitted. "It's certainly no secret that there are those in the government who would love my head on a pike outside the palace walls. They've shown an uncanny ability to get close to me, even infiltrate my Royal Guard. It's why I asked for your help in the first place."

"So let me help," said Wally.

"You make it sound so simple."

He flashed a grin. "It is. And the first thing you're going to do is ignore all those papers and come with me to the bomb site.''

Audrey frowned. "It was nearly all I could stomach watching the footage from afar. What could possibly be gained by going there in person?"

"Well it's good P.R. for one," Wally replied smoothly. "The benevolent queen tending to her people makes for great press. You don't want to seem like you're walled up in the palace while your people suffer, do you?"

Audrey ignored the question. "And why do you want to return to that awful scene. All the survivors have already been rescued."

He chuckled. "I've got a little bit of expertise in crime scene analysis. The attack might be as straightforward as it seems, but I think it's best to look at the evidence again. Just to be safe."

"What about me?" The voice was not Audrey's but rather Sofia's- the young girl having surreptitiously entered Audrey's conference room during the discussion.

"Sofia! How long have you-" Audrey started to say, momentarily flustered.

Wally on the other hand broke into a huge smile, zooming next to the young girl and crouching as he went for a high five. "Hey kiddo!"

"Kiddo?" Sofia repeated quizzically. Though she did return the unfamiliar gesture with a tentative high five of her own. Her eyes widened as Flash again zoomed back into place next to Audrey's desk, the wind shear flipping loose strands of hair out of her eyes. "It's nice to see you," she told the superhero, surprised that she actually meant it. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"You've interrupted nothing," Audrey assured her.

"It sounded like you were both planning to go visit the bridge," the young girl began. "I just. . .I don't want you to leave me here alone."

A comment on the silliness off such a sentiment rose to Audrey's lips before she realized that despite Sofia's mature carriage, she was really just a little girl. A little girl who had been abandoned far too many times before. And while Audrey had little, make that _no _experience dealing with children, she'd vowed to make a difference in this girl's life.

So she gave Wally a look that he deciphered right on cue. He gave just enough of a bow to reach Sofia's eye level, patted her on the shoulder with a "Seeya kiddo," and then backed out toward the exit. "I'll let you two talk for a bit," he said. Then, to Audrey, "What's say we head out in ten minutes or so?"

"Very well."

Sofia blinked and the Flash was gone, just like his namesake. "He didn't have to leave," she said.

"Well it was the polite thing for him to do," Audrey said.

"Why?"

The Queen, a woman accustomed to delivering long speeches in front of hostile audiences, found herself struggling to explain the concept of situational courtesy. "It just was," she managed at last.

"Are you going to go with him to the bridge?"

Audrey looked down at her. "Yes, probably. But I shan't be gone for long. Do you think you can manage here for just a few hours? I'll have the chef cook up a delicious meal for you and I'll have some movies and books brought to your room."

Sofia considered this for a moment. "Alright."

"I'll see you tonight, Sofia."

The young girl moved toward the door, but she paused before exiting altogether. "He likes you, you know."

Audrey's blush seemed to appear even before she grasped the full meaning of the girl's words. "What?"

"The Flash likes you, I can tell," Sofia continued. "I can see it."

The queen crossed her arms. "And what do you see, exactly?"

"That you like him too," Sofia replied without hesitation. The ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Audrey forced a chuckle even as she shook her head. "Well now I know you're crazy."

"You like him a _lot."_

"I most certainly do not."

"It's why you can't stop smiling," Sofia observed.

And on that, Audrey had to admit, she had a point.

* * *

**K'Naedi Stronghold**

**Kasnian Mountains**

It was a meeting of war, perhaps the important meeting of his commanders that Viktor had ever assembled. Some dozen or so of them sat in what was functionally the most fortified structure for miles around. It was a natural cave, part of a labyrinthine series of underground structures protected by mountainside and rock wall thick enough to survive aerial bombardment. Despite the occasional bat, the humid air, and the dim lighting, it was an ideal location for these sorts of gatherings.

Viktor began the meeting with an aside. He wanted precisely zero looming distractions as plans were made to deal with the rapidly-approaching enemy forces. His commanders, of course, were understandably confused and distracted. Talin's presence at this meeting, at Viktor's side, of all things, was practically impossible to reconcile. That the disgraced woman, slated for execution last anyone had heard, seemed to have earned Viktor's favor required explanation. The leader of the K'Naedi was not known for his mercy.

Viktor contemplated all of this as he withdrew his dagger and drove its blade deep into the wooden tabletop with a resounding _thunk. _The background chatter of his commanders immediately as all attention squarely on him.

Viktor was not in the mood for pleasantries. "Talin, has been forgiven for her earlier failures. Her rank will not be restored yet but she is still to be considered on equal rank with the other commanders until such time as she has proven herself or squandered her second chance. If there are any objections to this, I will hear them _after _we have repelled the enemy. Is that clear?"

The men circled around the table nodded grudgingly. While few were friends of the abrasive Talin, most would acknowledge her as among the fiercest warriors the K'Naedi had to offer. If a full-scale clash with the enemy was indeed upon them, none would want the woman anywhere other than at their side.

They were still surprised, however, when Viktor sat down but Talin remained standing. Was he actually giving her the floor as well?

"Having dispensed with that," Talin began brusquely, "I have intelligence from our contact in the Royal Guard." She paused to let that juicy tidbit sink in. "Before I get to this however, there is one matter which must be immediately addressed. Did _any _of you have prior knowledge of the attack on the Queen's Bridge?"

Dozin, one of the younger commanders present, could scarcely hold back his anger. Seated two seats away from Talin, he jumped to his feet. "Who the hell are you to ask this, traitor? _You _were the one who authorized that disaster of a mission that led to _five _of our own slaughtered like dogs at the hands of our enemies. And you _dare-"_

Talin didn't let him finish. She skipped forward and to the left, like a practiced loss of balance which took her around the men seated between her and Dozin. Her entire body rotated with the maneuver, powering the vicious elbow strike she unloaded right into Dozin's jaw.

To the man's credit, he managed to stay conscious. He spun away from his seat and lashed out at Talin, a powerful if imprecise blow. She darted inside of his reach as the punch sailed harmlessly past. She kneed him in the groin and brought her fist up into his chin as he doubled over. She simultaneously trapped his extended arm in the crook of her shoulder and twisted with her entire body, propelling the larger man over her and into a sprawled heap on the ground.

He groaned, still doubled over in pain. All eyes turned to Viktor who had watched the brutal exchange with nary a word. His pitiless gaze, in turn, came to rest on Dozin. The man gingerly rose to his feet, backing away from Talin whose hips were tensed to launch right back into a savage beating. "Take your seat, Dozin. You will not speak for the rest of this meeting. Nod your head if I've made myself clear."

Jaw clenched, Dozin nodded.

"Continue," Viktor directed Talin.

She did, albeit after warily surveying the room. "It seems that whoever destroyed the Queen's Bridge is not affiliated with the K'Naedi. This leaves several options. One is that some of our Naedi brethren have decided to strike out against the Kasnian regime on their own. The other, which I find more compelling, is that this strike was a deliberate attempt to frame us and provide justification for an incursion into the mountains.

"Why would the queen feel she needed a justification?" asked one of the council members in the back. "If she wanted to attack us, she could have done so at any time. Especially with killing so many of her own citizens.

"Perhaps it is one of the queen's advisors or a member of her Royal Guard," Talin suggested. Perhaps this was the last bit of leverage they needed to convince her that an attack was necessary. I do not mean to dwell on the causal factors of our current predicament, however. The fact is, we have a small army headed our way. Preparations must be made."

She snapped her finger and an assistant thumbed the old yet functional projector to life. The image, though blurry, was a map of the forests and nearby mountainside. Talin didn't bother explaining this, pointing instead to the forest icon on the map. "Thanks to intelligence I have received from our source inside the Royal Guard, we have a very good idea of their plans. Our enemy progresses through these forests," she continued. "They will arrive at the village of Guinsluv in a few days' time. They will, undoubtedly, attempt to requisition supplies from the villagers. They will need to, because we will be conducting raids every night to relieve them of their food, fuel, and ammunition.

"The people of Guinsluv are sympathetic to our cause. They will help us lay the trap for our intruders. This will, however, require every ounce of energy and commitment that we can muster. Any able-bodied men and women under your command will begin readiness training at once. I need scouts, quick and nimble, to conduct our supply raids against the enemy. We will need to fell trees by the dozens to block the way of their assault vehicles. I want every squad to have at least one member with surface to air missile training. Our SAM turrets and RPGs should be more than a match for their helicopters."

She paused to let all of this sink in. "My source also confirms that the Justice League members are accompanying this incursion force. They have proven themselves extraordinarily difficult to kill. Do not forget that these three singlehandedly defeated not only Katya and Konrad, but Nadia and Odom as well." She knew what her audience was thinking: that the four elite K'naedi assassins were only dead because Talin had sent them on an unauthorized mission. But her point would still resonate.

"At the end of the day, we have one clear advantage," she continued, still not wishing to dwell on her past mistakes. "The outsiders come into our land. Our home. We know these forests, these caves. They do not. And they will pay for their ignorance- their _arrogance- _with their lives."

Viktor rose, impressed by Talin's ability to deliver such a terse yet rousing message. "I can't imagine that any more need be said on this matter," he said with a faint smile. "Now let us put our words to action. The Royal Guard approaches and we have quite the welcome to prepare."

* * *

The next few days seemed as awkward and interminable as the last, at least from Greg's perspective. Mari would scarcely speak to him except when absolutely necessary, and he found that he was beginning to resent her more and more as well. As if she hadn't been just as complicit in what had nearly transpired between them! No, the maddening part was knowing that she did feel attraction for him but that it would never be able to measure up to the great and mighty Green Lantern (who, incidentally, wasn't even _with _her anymore.

He grew irritated just thinking about it. And the weather certainly wasn't helping. Two of the men had already succumbed to the cold and were keeping the combat medics busy treating their simultaneous onsets of pneumonia. Greg for his part stayed aloof from the group for the most part, setting up his own tent and fire when the strike force made camp for the night.

And then there were the disappearances. Not people, but supplies. Ammunition, medicine, and food mostly. Diric was beginning to suspect a bandit roaming the forest and picking off the stolen goods, and Greg couldn't help but agree. Either way, the supply truck, had been moved to the center of camp and a constant guard posted. Whoever was stealing supplies wouldn't be doing so anymore, but the damage was already done. There wasn't anywhere near enough food left to feed all the men.

"I propose we set up hunting parties," he said to Diric late one night. These forests are cold but they should still have plenty game to choose from. It's that or we turn back before we have a starving army on our hands."

They were standing in the makeshift command bunker, a tent complex fortified with barbed wire fencing. Diric, his attention still mostly on a map on the wall, chuckled softly. "Creative solution," he said. "Truly. But we won't need it. There is a third option." He trailed his index finger toward a point on the map near this position. "This is Guinsluv. Don't bother remembering the name. It's a known K'Naedi village and it's within a day's march. Closer than that if we didn't have to clear the vegetation for our vehicles. We'll recoup our supplies there."

Greg frowned. "And what makes you think they'll cooperate."

The other man's laugh was darker this time. "Well, they won't have much choice, will they? This is a sanctioned mission from the Queen herself. Under Kasnian law, citizens must provide reasonable requisitions and accommodations for military personnel."

Greg's chin raised a fraction of an inch. "Under international law, citizens may not be forced to quarter soldiers."

Diric rolled his eyes. "Oh please. As if these scum deserve every bleeding heart concession in whatever U.N. convention pulled that out of their arse. I'm pretty sure it's against international law to blow up a bridge with hundreds of people still on it too. Maybe you should be more concerned about the Naedi-"

"Not all of them," Greg interjected. "We're here for the bad guys. Not the civilians."

"They _are _the civilians. They hide in the villages. They receive aid and comfort from the people. Naedi, K'Naedi, it's the same bloody thing."

"No, it's not." This was Mari's voice from the door. She entered with a walk that could silence auditoriums, her voice as hard as steel. "The Queen brought us here in part to oversee her own forces. So let us remind you again that neither we nor the rest of the League will permit war crimes to occur under our watch. Your incursion has a narrow and specific target and you will _not _deviate from those parameters."

Diric's jaw clenched. "I don't need to have this conversation again. Just remember that my men and the good of Kasnia will come before these mountain-dwelling vermin every time. Now if you will excuse me I have a great deal more planning to do."

Vigilante and Vixen exited together, neither sure what to say once they were outside.

"Thanks," Greg was the first to say, if stiffly at that. He was still peeved at Mari but he appreciated her help against Diric.

She shrugged off the gratitude. "Don't mention it."

"Right."

More awkward silence, even as the voice in Mari's head screamed that this wasn't how it was supposed to be. She and Vig had never been unable to talk to each other. To share their feelings. Though she supposed that those feelings had never been _about _each other before. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow then, Greg."

"What's going on with you and John?" The question came from nowhere, at least as far as Vg could tell. He'd meant to bid her good night and somehow had ended up asking. . .that.

Mari gawked at him, disbelief in her eyes. "You really want to have this conversation now?"

He crossed his arms. "May as well."

"Frankly, it's none of your business."

The words were like a slap to the face. "After what almost happened between us, I think it is my business to know what's going on with you and your boyfriend."

"Ex-boyfriend," Mari interrupted, her eyes clouding with anger. "And again, none of your business." She wished she didn't feel the need to defend JOhn after all he had put her through, but it was undeniable that she still had feelings for the Green Lantern. The dissonance of her attraction to Greg and John was unbearable enough without Greg ripping the emotions out like an open wound. "What do you want from me, Greg?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

His jaw clenched. "I want to know where we stand, Mari. I-" He faltered, but only for a moment. "Mari, I'm in love with you."

Mari was already shaking her head. "I can't. . ."

"Can't what?"

"I can't give you that. I'm sorry."

He studied her trying to find the spark of attraction he had seen before in her eyes and her smile. "Do you feel anything for me?"

_I love you too, _she wanted to say.

"No," she actually said.

He looked thunderstruck. "You're lying," he whispered, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

And she was. But as much as her feelings for the cowboy had grown, she wasn't ready to close the chapter on John just yet. So she plunged ahead in breaking her best friend's heart. "There's is between us, Greg. We fooled around, I was feeling bad after what happened with John, and we made a mistake."

Greg's face deadened, betraying none of the hurt he felt at her words. "A rebound, huh?"

"We're just. . .friends." She willed him to dispute the assertion but he didn't. Instead he reached into his pocket and fished out a cigarette. Hating the smell of secondhand smoke, Mari took a step back. Which had probably been the point.

Vig lit his cigarette and took a long, slow inhale before speaking. His tone was measured despite the trembling of the cigarette in his hand. "Well, Mari, thanks for clearing that up. I'm inclined to agree with you one hundred and ten percent about that night bein' a mistake and you can bet your talisman it won't happen again."

"I think that's for the best," Mari told him, brushing eye with the back of her hand. If she started crying over this, she would never forgive herself.

Mari could see the wall Greg was already starting to build between them. The irrevocable changing of their relationship, all in real time. started to turn around but paused halfway. Regret rolled over her like a dense fog, all the more potent because she knew that she was the cause of the pain he worked so hard to conceal.

He didn't even seem to want to meet her eyes as he started to back away. "You and John deserve each other," he said simply.

Mari watched him walk away the smoke of his cigarette catching stray moonbeams in the brisk night air. The tears came unbidden and this time, she didn't resist. One day, she would get over Greg. Somehow. Even if, for the life of her, she couldn't imagine how.

* * *

_What the hell does she see in that guy anyway? _Vig fumed as he walked through the forest, his thoughts toward the Green Lantern less than charitable. The rub of it was that he'd never been a particularly big fan of John Stewart. Even before developing feelings for Mari, even before joining the League, he'd felt that the Lantern célèbre represented the worst of the League's potential for overreach. A man whose first loyalties lay not with his country or even the League, but with an army of alien soldiers powered by an infinite green battery.

That Earth's Lantern should also be with the most amazing woman he'd ever known was just insult to injury. And that disaster with the cell phone call in the middle of the night. . .he didn't even know how to categorize that one. He almost wished that the talk they'd just had would free him from his desire for Mari. After what she'd said, how could it not?

But his feelings were, lamentably, more powerful than ever. And he had no idea what to do about it. He'd told her he loved and she'd shot him down like a damn clay pigeon at a skeet shoot. The emptiness was agonizing, a feeling he hadn't had since the death of his wife. He realized with a start how much he'd come to rely on Mari for companionship up on the Watchtower and during his time with the League. Sure, he had other friends. But none who made him as genuinely happy as Mari.

"Maybe it's time for you to hang up the hat," he muttered to himself between puffs. "Go back to the ranch, back to the local crimefightin'.". He wouldn't go as far as to say that Mari was the only reason he'd stayed with the League. But now that she'd closed that chapter for good, it would be much easier to leave. Hell, it wasn't like she'd miss him much.

Greg accidentally missed the first path that led back to his tent and missed the second one on purpose. Something about the forests, a million miles away from his home country, seemed. . .comforting as he walked alone with his thoughts. Discarding the used cigarette, he plucked another one from his pocket, the notion crossing his mind that he really should quit sometime soon.

And then all thoughts of the dangers of smoking were replaced by more immediate concerns when he heard the unmistakable click of a handgun's safety mechanism being unlatched, and saw the three figures converging from all sides, their pistols glinting in the moonlight and pointed straight at him.

_Stupid, _he swore at himself. So lost in thought that he'd managed to let a couple amateurs get the drop on him. They were K'Naedi, based on the clothes and the Soviet-era Makarov pistols currently aimed at his head. They were in a lopsided triangular formation, surrounding him yet ensuring that missed shots were in no danger of hitting a comrade. They were just far enough away that handgun accuracy could be maintained without falling into range of a kick or lunge.

And there were three of them. Two, he could probably clear leather fast enough to shoot them before they got off a shot. But three? He didn't feel like risking his life on it.

"Don't try anything," said the lead soldier in thickly-accented English. "We know of your prowess with firearms and we will shoot you if deviate at all from the following instructions. Kneel, slowly, to the ground. Put your hands behind your head and interlock your fingers."

Greg was beginning to rapidly upgrade his assessment of these guys. Clearly, they weren't amateurs. And they had been well-briefed.

He shrugged. "Suit yourselves." He did as instructed, kneeling and putting his hands behind his head. He would have tried to escape but he didn't think he'd be able to do so without killing them. And despite their threats, it didn't look like they had any intention of killing him just yet.

Rough hands yanked his pistols out of their holsters while another pair grabbed his arms and secured them behind his back with a pair of plastic zipcuffs, the lightweight handcuff substitutes that, while composed of plastic, were more than durable enough to hold a prisoner.

Ridiculously, his cigarette was still in place. So, talking out of the corner of his mouth, he joked, "Don't suppose any of y'all have a light?"

That bit of humor earned Vigilante a fist in the stomach. He pitched forward, unable to stop his fall. But his captors caught him and stood him back up. "Not talking!"

He thought with no small amount of irony that being captured by terrorists wasn't even the worst he'd felt that day.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Not much to say except that I haven't forgotten this story and will finish it come hell or high water. Even though Justice League Unlimited has been off the air for quite some time, I care very much for these characters and enjoy the process of putting them at the front and center of their own adventure.

As always, reviews are appreciated and mean a great deal to me. Apologies for typos, misspellings, grammatical oopsies, etc.

Thank you for taking the time to read and I hope you've enjoyed the story so far,

-C


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